


Delicacy

by gatekat, Verilidaine



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cannibalism, Drugging, Egg Laying, Forced Pregnancy, Infanticide, M/M, Mech Preg, Nesting Behavior, People as Livestock, Prolicide, Spark Sex, Sparklings, Sticky Sex, Trauma, mental horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 127,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1779052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verilidaine/pseuds/Verilidaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a Cybertron where all the flight frames have retreated to the moons to avoid the eating of their eggs by the Vector Sigma sparked grounders, occasional Seekers still return for any number of reasons. Most are fine, some get caught up in the illicit egg trade as breeding stock.</p><p>This is the story of one young Seeker who survives, and the Prime and the hatchlings that manage to heal a rift older than anyone knows.</p><p><b>Authors' warnings:</b> This work involves treating sapient beings (people) like livestock, and has proven to be upsetting to some readers.  Pay attention to the tags, the descriptions are graphic.  Please read with caution, and always, always take care of yourself. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breeding the Stock

"I have to admit, your security is admirable," the mech said as he was brought online. He sat up, looking around the small room. "We're here, then?"

"We're here," Swindle said, smiling at the mech he only knew as Vault. It was certain to be a cover designation, but in this business, that was the norm. "I guarantee my product, and the only way to do that is to be as careful as possible. None of my facilities have ever been raided."

"Impressive," Vault said, cycling through different layers of visual readings.

"I _am_ the best," Swindle said, motioning with his head for Vault to follow.

The medium-build, non-descript burnt orange and rich yellow mech complied. Every sense was alert, checking out everything he could without appearing paranoid. It paid to be alert and aware, but beyond that you were weak and he knew Swindle would jump on it.

Swindle didn't comment as he lead Vault out into the primary facility, an underground warehouse converted to his particular use. Above ground, he maintained and operated a storage facility that would explain the open space if anyone ever came looking. Safes lined the walls, ranging from small to large, and Swindle stopped at one in the middle, keying in a code and swiping his palm over the track pad. 

"The security codes change three times per orn," he said as he opened the door. Vault looked through to see another long passage. 

"Impressive. It must be expensive to maintain," he said. "Is it more to keep the law out, or your stock in?"

"Both, though you'll understand if I can't get _too_ into detail on that subject," Swindle said. "As for price, my product ensures the necessary income for all maintenance." He stopped and opened another door, waving to the pair of heavily-armored mecha inside. "This is my security detail, they are alerted of any entrance into the building and are immediately hooked in by camera. If I were to enter without confirming my identity, they would change the codes immediately to keep everyone out. There are four on-site at any given time, working half-orn shifts in pairs. They stay underground for an entire vorn at minimum, to reduce visible traffic. It also keeps Enforcers from being able to track them, and they're brought in and out the same way you were. In stasis and ignorant of any actual locations. They don't even know what city they're in right now, just like you." They continued down the hallway. "The same is true of my entire staff, actually. Now, back through here is our on-site pharmaceutical production center. There is a reason I am the best, Vault, and this is one of them."

"Drugs?" the buyer raised an optic ridge. "Seekers are that dangerous?"

"Yes," Swindle said seriously. "And you should never buy from someone who says otherwise. Now of course, you should always work with a supplier that _you_ feel comfortable with, Vault, and if that isn't me, I won't hold it against you. But I hope that by the end of today to secure your bid, because I have every confidence in my product. I'm sure you came to me because you've heard of both my reputation for discretion and also my consistency and reliability of product." 

Vault nodded. 

Swindle beamed, rocking up on his pedes a little. "This is what sets me a notch above everyone else on the market. Not only are Seekers highly dangerous, but breeding them is tricky. Before I even made my first sale, I invested a considerable sum into hormonal research. My researchers developed a supplement that guarantees production on the first try nine times out of ten, and I've never needed more than three times for the stock to take. When you buy from me, you are paying for a guarantee of product. No risky raiding nests, no endangering my clients' identities with back-alley theft."

"No need to travel off world to secure the product," Vault added with a hum of approval at the plan. "How many eggs can you produce in a vorn?"

"It depends on the vorn, of course, but the average is about thirty-six," Swindle said, beaming at Vault's surprise. "Even now we're looking into ways to reliably increase clutch size. I have my stock on a rotating schedule to level out production, and to be able to deliver my product quickly."

"How much of your stock is wild-caught?" Vault asked as he tried to process just how large an operation this had to be for those numbers. It was rare for a successful raid to come away with more than two eggs and the same nest couldn't be raided more than once every decade, if that often.

"All of it," Swindle said. "There isn't much room for expansion in this business, as I'm sure you can imagine, but it is there. Depending on growth, we may start a small breeding and raising program. Right now it is more lucrative to find adults rather than wait for one to come of breeding age."

"Understandable," Vault nodded as they reached yet another secured door. "We do not want the product to become so common that it loses its allure."

"I like you, Vault," Swindle said as he keyed it open. "This is the stock room, and I won't even begin to bore you with the extensive details of the security. If you'd like to stay, I've just acquired, quite by chance, a new adult. We're preparing to breed it this evening."

"I am definitely inclined to stay." Vault didn't hide his interest as his gaze moved over the hissing red and white Seeker that flared and rattled its white wings at them. "How can you tell if one is an egg-layer build?"

"The egg-layers emit a unique EM signature," Swindle said. "Others of their species detect it naturally, I can pick it up on specialized equipment." 

Vault nodded and stepped forward, looking around the room with four large cells, only three of which had inhabitants. He glanced at Swindle. "Just three?" 

"You can't expect me to keep everything in one location," Swindle said with a chuckle. "Far too dangerous. In the unlikely event that a facility _did_ get raided, I would lose my entire stock." 

"Of course," Vault said, and stepped close to the bars of a bright green Seeker who was huddled in the back corner, abdomen severely distended. "Is this one..." 

"It's about to lay, should be in less than a decaorn," Swindle said, nodded. 

The Seeker watched him with dim yellow optics, then whispered, "Please ... help me, please..." 

Vault raised an optic ridge, then looked a Swindle. "It can talk?" 

"Oh yes," Swindle said cheerfully. "All that nonsense about them being like mecha-animals is just that: nonsense. They're highly intelligent, and highly dangerous. The thing that _really_ sets me apart, Vault, more than my discretion, caution, business sense, and dependability, is that I _respect_ my stock. I respect their strength, their grace, and what they do." 

"Which includes being able to rip a well-armored mecha limb from limb." Vault shivered slightly at the images he had of a survivor from one of those hunts he bought from that hadn't survived the vorn and stepped away from the bars, out of arm's reach. "You don't even clip their wings or vocalizers?"

"Mm, no," Swindle said, shaking his helm. "I tried that in the beginning but their production rates declined. And frankly, I find it inhumane," he added. "No, I take care of my stock. As you can see, comforts have been provided. Space to move, a place to recharge, plenty of energon, access to a washrack once every three orns, environmental enrichment, and if they behave, they have access to a flight simulator. They just plug in and soar."

"Impressive. It makes me wonder why it's so scared," Vault cocked his helm as he studied the egg layer. "That's more than most mecha have."

Swindle could only shrug. "I have asked myself the same many times. I can only give, I can't make them appreciate what they have." 

A crash behind them made them turn and they saw the red and white one against the bars, claws out, wings raised in a clear aggressive display. "You murdered their seekerlings," it snarled. "Why would we _appreciate_ that?"

"They're just eggs." Vault scowled at the aggressive one, though it was more to cover being embarrassed at how much he'd jumped back despite being well out of reach already. "Small price to live well for anything that's sane."

"Would you eat your own kind to live well?" it demanded. "They're _alive_ when you take them, did you know that?" 

Swindle clicked with disapproval, then brightened. "Ah, but this gives me a chance to show you one of our security features," he said, and pressed a red control lever on the wall next to the Seeker's cell. A strong hum filled the air and the Seeker suddenly dropped to its knees, struggling, but it appeared to be stuck. After a moment, it dropped to its side, wings slamming into the ground. It shrieked at them in rage. 

"Emergency electro-magnets in the floors," Swindle said. "They actually run through this entire area, in the case of a breach." 

"Impressive," Vault nodded before addressing the prone Seeker. "They aren't alive when they are served. No Cybertronian I know of came from an egg. People are from Vector Sigma."

"You're all fake," it hissed. "A manufactured, soulless race that poisoned our world." 

Swindle hummed happily. "I know it doesn't look like a promising breeder, but the spirited ones always last the longest." 

"It must take some interesting tricks to sedate something like that enough to breed it," Vault commented "Or do they become compliant around the sire-type of Seeker?"

Swindle chuckle. "Not one bit. It amazes me that they continue to exist, as foul as their tempers are. Well, shall we?" He held his arm out for the door. "We can discuss my payment options and financing plans over some high grade."

"I like that plan," Vault grinned and agreeably followed Swindle out, leaving the Seeker behind them stuck to the floor.

* * *

Starscream guessed it was probably a joor later when the magnet in the floor finally switched off, releasing him. He groaned and pushed up, wings aching from the strange angle they'd been held at, then snarled and lunged at the bars. "Hey!" he shouted, shaking them as hard as he could. "I know you can hear me! Let me the frag out of here! I'll tear you apart, I'll crush your worthless spark in your chest!"

A chirp for attention drew him momentarily away from his rage to look at the Seeker in the cell next to his. Torrent, he'd called himself when Starscream had first booted up. Torrent crawled over to the bars separating them and one look told Starscream that the eggs would be delivered soon.

"They're going to breed you," Torrent whispered to him in Vosian. "It goes better if you don't fight."

" _Frag you,_ " Starscream hissed at him. "If that's what you think then you _deserve_ what they're doing to you."

Dim yellow optics barely lit the sad features. "That's what everyone said. You'll learn, eventually. Two clutches a vorn until you can't anymore. You'll learn to fight when it's not about you and not before."

Starscream stared at him. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Poor Seeker had obviously lost his senses, gone mad from the horrors in this place. "Or maybe _you'll_ learn that we should _always_ fight them," he snapped, and shook the bars again, craning his neck around to see the door. "Hey, fraggers! Why don't you try coming in here and seeing what happens then!"

The gravid Seeker shuffled back to his improvised nest of the mattress and several more pillows and blankets than Starscream had, leaving him to learn in his own time.

The hum of electro-magnets gave Starscream a few nanokliks of warning before they pulled his frame down.

He grunted, helm caught in such a way that he was facing the third Seeker in the cell across from him, an egg-heavy, dusky blue frame with vibrant green highlights that had so far been silent. He looked back silently, huddled in the far corner of his cell where he'd built his nest. Cirrus, Torrent had called that one. 

Starscream was disgusted with them both. They should be screaming and fighting, not spouting slag about letting the grounders have their way. He'd show them how a _real_ Seeker faced his enemies. 

Though at the moment, even he had to admit that fighting would be difficult. _Moving_ wasn't much of an option, though he could very slowly shift so long as he didn't try to stand.

He gradually got himself away from the bars, enough that his neck wasn't being pressed right against them, and more on his stomach. They'd have to turn off the magnets to get him turned over, or to even touch him, and he couldn't _wait_ to see how that went. 

Even if they did manage to get to his spark, there was no way he was going to start constructing. Not for some filthy artificial grounder. He was appalled that any Seeker could want eggs so much that they'd start constructing for them. Starscream didn't even _want_ eggs, let them just try to get him clutch-heavy. 

The door opened and even though he couldn't see, he hissed at whoever was coming in and rattled his wings as much as he could. The mecha came in, heavy pedes. They were large grounders. Bigger than a Seeker, Starscream extrapolated based on what his wings could tell him. They walked up to the bars and he snarled at them, but neither seemed to care.

A long, thin object was pushed through the bars above him. A stick or something, and where it touched his neck there was a sharp prick.

He cursed at them and tried to jerk away, but it stuck with him, and after a moment, he felt a strange warmth flood through his lines. It started in his neck and moved rapidly through his frame, and his wings drooped, suddenly too heavy to hold up. After a klik, the magnet turned off and he pushed up onto his arms, and then promptly fell over. "What ... what did you ... do..." he mumbled, then groaned. He felt hot, and dizzy, like being pulled into a jetwash. Systems he'd never been aware of fired up and those he knew were for mating sent erratic flares of heat through him.

"It's heatin' fast. Prob'ly won't even need this," one of the grounders said. 

"It's protocol, use it," the other grunted. "Even if it's ready in three kliks, gotta log it."

 _Ready?_ Starscream thought, and tried to get up again. Through fuzzy, wavy vision he could see Torrent watching him and he got as far as his pedes before a single touch sent him toppling over again, landing him on his wings. His chest was itching, the seam down the middle was trying to split. He hissed and clawed at his own cockpit, trying to hold it shut. His will managed that much, but he couldn't spare the attention needed to keep his valve cover closed and the click of it opening mixed with the cool air hitting the slick, sensitive components made him gasp.

He was distantly aware of the two grounders coming in and then his legs were forced apart and something was pushed into his valve. The other mech grabbed his arms and forced them to the ground above his helm, then pinned them under his knees. A large, strong hand rubbed his cockpit gently, every touch exactly the right one to encourage the molten heat in Starscream's frame.

He shook his helm and wrenched his entire frame with as much strength as he could manage, but all it did was cause him to lean slightly into the one holding his arms. The other one was pushing and pulling whatever it was--it didn't feel quite like a spike, and he couldn't feel any other part of a frame--and the steady rhythm was making his fans whirr and his spark chamber spiral open. Dread slammed through him. 

This was breeding heat. 

They'd poisoned him and induced breeding heat. This was supposed to be for _trine_. 

"How..." he mumbled, and felt his chest split open. 

"That's a good Seeker," the grounder on his legs cooed at him as the toy was pulled out and he leaned forward. His armor split, exposing his spark. "It'll feel really good if you just relax. No need for this to hurt."

"No," Starscream said, very clearly, and felt the pressure on his wrist lighten. He forced his arm out, searching. It took a few tries, but he managed to get his hand on plating and then extended his claws and sank in. He was rewarded with a pained snarl as his wrist was grabbed and slammed to the ground. He knew he left gashes in that one.

Then the world tilted again as a spark came close to his, reaching out with promises of pleasure.

" _No_ ," he said again, and tried to jerk away, but now there was an overwhelming need to fight against that was every bit as powerful as the poison in his lines. He didn't think that heat was supposed to make it so hard to move. Frag, he'd watched others in heat and they'd been much more in control of themselves than this. 

The open chest above him mashed into his and he found that he still had some control over his spark as it shrank back once faced with the presence of _not trine_. To him, it felt like a decently good struggle that took up a lengthy amount of time, but in reality, his chronometer reported just moments before his spark surged into the other. 

_No no no!_

~It'll feel much better if you go with it,~ the grounder, Gravel, told him in the strangely gentle contact. Gravel's spark teased Starscream's, encouraging the heat and pleasure, revving the Seeker up with the skill of a good pleasurebot.

~You drugged me,~ Starscream snarled, his spark churning in a maelstrom of vicious fury. ~You _poisoned_ me!~ His heavy frame felt distant and warm, relaxed, but the drug couldn't touch him _here_.

But the heat could, and the spark contact was already priming him for something he would have refused even his trine, if he had trinemates.

Gravel didn't reply. He didn't care. He was doing a job, nothing more and nothing less. He knew what would happen to the eggs he was triggering and _didn't care_.

Starscream shrieked at him and heard the sound tear from his vocalizer. His frame bowed up and the more experienced spark _thrummed_ in low, steady pulses that filled him. The energy flooded into his frame and something began to hum in his abdomen. He fought the overload, but with the older and stronger spark against his own, pressing and hitting right into his core, it was forcefully wrenched from him. It _hurt_ , waves of energy and matter pounding inside, brutal compared to the gentle, shivering overload of the grounder.

Panting and disoriented, Starscream was only distantly aware of the grounder standing, his armor closed, and the visual clicked enough that Starscream checked his own armor.

Locked.

At least he had that.

With it and building awareness as the pair left his cell, Starscream also realized that these grounders really _would_ eat their own creations to live well. He tried to roll over and managed to halfway flop onto his side, wing twisted painfully beneath him, ruby optics glaring darkly at the pair. 

"What's the date again?" the one he'd gotten his claws into asked.

Gravel answered, leaning against the wall. They were looking at what Starscream assumed was the information log he could see next to the locks on the other cells.

He heard a series of beeps as the date was entered. "All right ... general attitude?"

"Resistant," Gravel said. "Foul-tempered."

"Mm. Okay, so no incidents or problems--"

"You'd better enter that cut. You know how boss gets about records."

"Right, yeah. Minor incident, cut, no medical attention sought. Yes, yes, yes, no, yes," he rattled off as he filled out what Starscream could only guess was a generic report. "And signed."

Gravel nodded and lifted his hand, adding his signature as well.

They moved over to Torrent's cell and looked in and had a brief discussion about his state as they filled out another log entry. "Supervisor recommends no further contact until product retrieval," Gravel said. "It's ready to pop, I'm not goin' in there." The other snorted in agreement and they shifted to the blue Seeker. "Wanna get it done while we're here?"

"Nah, got a few more orns, I'll get it later," the other said.

Gravel chuckled. "You know you'll just complain about it when you have to do it last klik," he said as they left. Starscream couldn't hear the reply, but it was also a chuckle.

Pits, his valve was _throbbing._

With a groan he shifted again. Up to his knees, shaky but gradually steadying, and fought to keep from fingering himself.

"There's a toy in that small box under your berth," Torrent told him without moving.

"'M not ... giving in ... to their _poison_ ," Starscream tried to snap, but his voice wasn't as steady as he wanted it to be. The hum from his abdomen was almost inaudible, but he felt it through his entire frame. 

"If you give in it'll be over faster," Torrent said. "Waiting it out takes a few orns." 

"How did they ... do this?" Starscream hissed as he crawled for the berth and tried to climb on. His first attempt to get up on it ended with his hand slipping off the edge and his chin hit the padding.

"Sedatives to reduce your resistance and a cocktail to induce the heat. That jab you felt in the neck was the injection," Torrent explained without a hint he'd witnessed Starscream's fumble.

"Not giving in," Starscream ground out, finally managing to claw his way up. Torrent fell silent, willing to allow the new prisoner to find his own way of surviving their shared nightmare.

Starscream got onto his front and pressed his face against the padding, trying to resist the urge to rock against the berth. His gripped the blanket in his hands to keep them still and away from his valve and tried to think of home, flock, flying. Anything to keep him from thinking about the way the grounder's spark had felt throbbing against his own, the eggs that he knew were now growing within, how soon the grounders would be back to spark life into them so they didn't just reabsorb into his frame.

Heat surged through his frame and he shuddered with a low moan. Hot air flushed out from his vents and his plating, his armor slowly expanded and loosened. 

He didn't care what it took, he was _not_ going to give them another victory over his frame. 

* * *

Starscream was still twitching with discomfort when Torrent started groaning. By his chronometer, it had been three orns since the heat had started, and he'd managed to keep himself from giving into it, but it had been a near thing. The one time he'd fallen into a fitful recharge, he'd booted up to find himself grinding his bare valve on the blanket, which he'd shoved between his legs sometime during the night. 

He sat up and made sure his cover was closed before crawling over and peering into his cell. He could see the other Seeker moving in the corner, shifting around the makeshift nest. The bright green finish was dull with stress, egg-production and lack of mates to care for him. He was also in far more distress than he should be. Even Starscream could see that the delivery was not going right.

He rested his forehelm against the bars, wrapping his hand around another one, and wondered if he should try to call for some kind of help. Would they help? "Hey!" he tried calling. 

He was immediately hushed, but not by Torrent. It took him a moment to realize that the blue Seeker had finally made some kind of noise and he looked over to see him shaking his head. He scowled and looked back. "What's wrong with you?" he whispered. 

"Don't want them coming. Not ever," Cirrus hissed as he shifted uneasily. "Give him what time he can with his eggs."

Starscream's wings tipped in confusion. Torrent's frame shook with convulsions and he moaned again, louder, before he grabbed part of the blanket and stuffed it in his mouth to muffle the sounds. He was hunched forward, but it wasn't right for laying. He was only going to injure himself that way. Starscream shook the bars in frustration, feeling a driving need to help the Seeker in distress, knowing that he was trapped and so was the other.

There was nothing he could do to help.

His wings rattled in the building stress and his own helplessness.

It was sickening on a very deep level to watch the egg-heavy frame contorting in on itself, fighting against the transformation sequence. Starscream's frame twinged with sympathy and then Torrent began to sob and the low groan of protesting equipment became audible. His frame was pulling itself open, trying to expel the eggs that their carrier wanted so desperately to keep. 

In the dim light, Starscream could see the bright pulsing light from the first one as soon as it cleared Torrent's frame, a weak, diluted blue. Torrent keened through the fabric as the next one began to press up and gathered the first in his arm, pushing down on the second. 

It was, by far, the most horrific thing the young Seeker had ever witnessed or learned of. Even his own rape paled in comparison to watching a Vision try to force his eggs to remain inside him when they were ready to emerge.

It was wrong. So very, very wrong.

It also didn't last long. Once the first had begun to emerge it was only a matter of a couple breems before both were out and Torrent was desperately trying to hide one, the second one, in his blankets with the first one more visible.

The blankets were thin and Torrent's hands were shaking, but eventually, the light was blocked and the first egg was brought into his lap as he huddled facing the corner, as far away from the bars as he could manage, wings held high as he trilled soothingly. There was some debate on whether or not the protoforms within eggs were developed enough to process sound, but many sang to their nests and reported that their seekerlings always calmed when they did. As Starscream watched, the faint light pulsed in steady beats that did, gradually, smooth and slow.

The door to the holding area opened and instinct drove Starscream to throw himself towards the bars, both as distraction and in a vain effort to protect the new eggs. He was faintly aware of Cirrus hissing, rattling his wings and trying to reach the newly delivered eggs and their carrier despite his own heavily gravid state. All Starscream could focus on was keeping the grounders away from the nest.

"Pits smelt it, how are we supposed to sedate it?" one of the guards groused as he considered the huddling green Seeker curled around his egg and angled so his wings were completely in the way of the syringe-stick.

"You could go in and get them," the second one snickered, leaning against the empty cell just out of reach of Cirrus, looking amused. 

The first snorted. "Yeah, and you could suggest something helpful for a chance." He banged on the bars and whistled. "Hey, c'mon! Move it!" 

Torrent just sang louder, his voice shaking as he stroked his egg. 

"Fragging things," the first muttered, examining the scene. After a moment he sighed and tilted his head in thought. "Got anything we could grab it with?" he wondered out loud. "Sorta pull it away?" 

"Stun blaster?" the second one half suggested.

"You want to paid for it if it dies?" The guard snorted. "You know the boss forbids violence against them, especially right after they lay."

"Just need to get it to move a bit so the magnets work," the second one huffed. "What about an energon treat? It hasn't fueled at all in two orns."

The guard closer to the cell rolled his optics, then pulled a half-consumed cube out of his subspace and held it through the bars with an inviting whistle. "Heeere jet jet jet," he called.

Torrent ignored him. Starscream snarled, and was similarly ignored by the guards. 

"Right, okay." The cube was stashed again. "Look, I'm gonna grab it and pull it back, you gotta get the magnets on and sedate it, and fast, all right?" 

"Will do." The guard walked over to the magnet switch, syringe stick in hand and fully tensed at the prospect of opening the cell without the contents immobilized. "Ready."

The first let out an x-vent, clearly not happy with this idea, but obviously lacking any others. Torrent's frame tensed at the sound, wings angling back just enough to have a full read on the attack from behind. The guard steeled himself, then opened the door and dove in. 

Torrent waited a beat, then whirled about so fast that Starscream's optics registered only a blur. He got claws into the guard's neck before the magnets pulled on, slamming them both into the ground. Torrent continued to snarl and tear at the other, fighting the pull with every joule of strength he had to drive his claws in deeper as the magnets pulled his hand down. He shifted and flinched, struggling to keep fighting as the other guard jabbed at him with the strong plastic syringe pole.

Even as the sedatives grabbed him and sapped what strength he had left after the difficult expulsion of his clutch, he kept digging his claws in deeper.

"Get it off!" the grounder shouted, his own arms pulled down and leaving him defenseless. The magnetic hold powered down a moment later and the second hurried into the cell to pull the weakened Seeker off his colleague and pushed him onto his front, pinning him with knees on his wings. 

"You all right?" he asked, over the sound of Torrent's enraged shrieking and the distressed, angry and demanding screams from the other two Seekers.

"Going ta need the medic for this one," the downed guard grunted as he held his neck cabling as he struggled to his pedes. "I'll get the eggs. You keep that one pinned."

The one on top of Torrent nodded and the first got to his pedes, scooping up the first egg and then frowning at the nest. "Fragging trying to hide them again," he said and began to pull the blankets and pillows apart until he found the second one. "Right, got it," he said, and Torrent keened, struggling as hard as he could to get out from under his captor. It worked no better than it had for Starscream, but he tried and Starscream knew without doubt that these Seekers might be broken, but their coding was intact. 

The guards locked him in and then the one with the injury stood by with the eggs as the other began to fill out the report. "Retrieval of two, moderate incident, see attached incident report and medic file, to be submitted. Violent behavior displayed. One egg hidden in blankets. Yes, no, no, yes, no." They both signed and left.

Barely able to move, Torrent sobbed on the floor where he'd been laid out, uncaring if he ever moved again.

With the eggs gone, coding leveled out somewhat and Starscream could think more for himself past _protect the eggs_. Not that he had much new to think about. Now he knew how they got the eggs, and how quickly, but it didn't add much to his knowledge.

Plan. He needed to plan. He was smarter than every mecha in this place combined. There was a way out and he'd find it.

It was just a few joors later, not long after the lights brightened to indicate "day," that Gravel and the mech who'd been with him before walked in. 

"...until the last klik, I told you, honestly, you don't have enough time and now you're dragging my aft--" 

"As long as the timestamp is in before the deadline it's fine," the other one said, going right to the log on Cirrus's cell and starting an entry. "Right, material supplement, compliant, no incident--" Gravel snorted. "Shut up, it'll be fine. No incident, yes, yes, yes, no, yes. Sign." They both signed, and Gravel lounged by the controls. 

Starscream stared as he opened Cirrus's cell without any kind of preparation and the mech just walked in. Cirrus didn't fight, just climbed onto his berth and spread his legs, turning to stare at the wall as the grounder released his spike and climbed in between. Cirrus slid back his valve cover. 

Wasn't he going to _fight?_ He could get away!

But the grounder pushed inside and other than the shudder in the wings, Cirrus made no response.

Starscream's attention shifted rapidly between the rape, the grieving carrier curled up without his eggs and the guard standing by the controls watching in boredom.

But Cirrus already _had_ eggs, so what was the point? " _Hey!_ " he shouted, shaking his bars. "Get off him or I swear you're a dead mech!"

He was ignored, as always. These grounders were arrogant, thinking they had all the control. They would learn. 

The guard didn't take long with Cirrus. He grunted and moaned a weak overload, pulled out, wiped himself off and walked out of the cell as his spike retracted and the cover closed.

"Your turn," he said to Gravel.

Gravel groaned. "That one is going to be a pain," he complained. "Anyway I've still got three orns." 

"What were you just telling me about not procrastinating?" the other snickered. "C'mon, first time's always the hardest, the sooner you get it over with the better." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Lounge," Gravel said. "I just hate new stock." He regarded Starscream, who suddenly stepped back away from the bars, not liking the way the conversation was going.

"Why do that?" Starscream said. He managed to make it sound more like a demand than the fearful question his spark knew it was.

Instead of an answer, he was pulled to the floor, face down. He hissed and tried to dodge the injection, but after a few tries, they got it into his neck and he felt the warm, heavy drugging spread through his lines. After a moment he realized that the heat-inducing cocktail hadn't been included. At least there was that. They waited a few more kliks, then turned off the magnet.

Starscream still couldn't move, but he could track them as they walked in. One grabbed and pinned his hands while the other -- presumably Gravel -- lifted his hips up and rubbed a thumb along the valve cover. From a lover, the touch would have been electric. This turned Starscream's tanks.

"Open up," Gravel actually cooed at him.

Starscream snarled and pulsed his wings up and down, the closest he could get to a rattle. His claws transformed out, digging into the floor, and he yanked at his hands. Lounge was ready for him this time and it wasn't any use. His head was pressed down on its side and he could see Torrent's silent, shaking frame. "Already ... have eggs," he slurred.

"And this will help you build them. Don't you know how it works for your own kind?" Gravel gave a few more insistent rubs. "Now open or have it opened."

"Don't need," Starscream forced out. "Frag ... off." 

"Suit yourself," Gravel shrugged as he touched a spot to one side and to Starscream's shock and humiliation, his valve cover slid open. Two hands went to his hips and he felt a large spike press into him without and prep or preamble.

It _hurt_. Tore and pulled instead of sliding smoothly. 

He shrieked, the sound wordless and static-filled and pulled from him. The same sickening horror of having his spark touched by the repulsive grounder swept through him, humiliation on top of everything else. He wouldn't beg for them to stop, he had his pride, but he clung to the floor and waited with a frozen frame.

It was everything he'd heard whispered of. Painful, degrading, an act of power, not for pleasure. This was even worse, knowing they were being paid to do this, that it was just part of their job, and it was to build the egg he was creating faster so they could make him build more.

He held back the sobs, the urge to purge his tank, everything until he felt the crackle of the grounder's overload and the wash of hot, charged fluid into his abused valve. When the grounder pulled out, his wings shuddered. He could feel fluid leaking out, down the insides of his thighs. The hands let go and he dropped. He still held back the sobs as they locked him inside, and while they filled out their log entry, congratulating each other on a smooth procedure, and then left. 

The sobs couldn't be stopped after that. The grounder's transfluid would go right to his eggs to be absorbed as nutrition, to strengthen the shells and the protoforms and prepare both to nurture life. Lives that would never emerge from the shell if these sick, twisted monsters had their way.

* * *

Starscream was curled up on his berth, staring at the wall when he heard Cirrus. For a moment, he dismissed the sound and didn't pay attention, and then realized it was words. 

"Hey, you!" 

He lifted his helm and looked over at the blue Seeker. 

"Yeah, you. What's your designation?" 

Starscream stared for a moment. "Starscream," he said. Had he really never told them his designation? Torrent had told him both of theirs when he'd first gotten here ... he'd never answered. 

"Okay, Starscream," Cirrus said, and pointed at Torrent's cell. Torrent still hadn't moved in five orns, other than when he was force-fueled. "Go over there and see if you can reach him."

At first Starscream resisted. He didn't take orders, he gave them. But this order was given because it was the right thing to do, so Starscream hauled himself off the berth and walked to the bars separating his cell from Torrent's. He reached through, trying to touch the despondent Seeker.

"Can't," he said, when he came up short. 

Cirrus sighed and sank to the floor, the corner of his cell that was the closest to Torrent and stretched his arm out as far as he could. "Torrent," he trilled. "Please, Torrent, I know you miss Flightplan. You have to move. They'll be back soon, Torrent, _please_."

"What happens when they come back?" Starscream scowled, angered that a carrier was expected to be fine only five orns after he'd lost his eggs. He was _grieving_ for Primus's sake! "Who was Flightplan?"

"He was in there before you were," Cirrus said. "He was here before Torrent. Torrent," he trilled again, and Starscream heard trine harmonics in his voice. His wings hiked up in shock. Visions couldn't trine other Visions! 

"Leave me alone," Torrent whispered. 

" _Please_ ," Cirrus said. "I need you for this." 

"What happens when they come back?" Starscream asked again, then shrank back when Cirrus hissed at him. 

"They're going to put me in heat," Torrent said flatly. "It starts all over."

"But ... but you _just_ released a clutch!" Starscream couldn't hide his horror and shock. "How can a frame do it so soon?"

"Flightplan was only 2000 when he could no longer build eggs," Cirrus said.

Starscream's wings quivered as he tried to process that and simply failed. He looked at the dusky blue Seeker. "What did they do to him?"

Cirrus's hand dropped and Torrent keened. 

"Same thing they'll do to all of us," Cirrus said. "Bred him until his frame couldn't support it."

"Then they kill us," Starscream said flatly. He didn't need to guess. 

"Yeah," Cirrus whispered. "If you don't take in three tries, they put you down. You're young," he said, looking at Starscream. "You'll last a while."

"I'm going to get out of here," Starscream rumbled definitely. "They have a lot going for them, but I'm smart. I'll work it out."

"No you won't," Torrent said flatly. "Others have tried. It isn't possible. You might as well accept it now." 

" _This_ isn't the education I came all the way to Iacon for, but I'll take it, learn and turn it on these sick monsters," Starscream's wings lifted high and rattled sharply. "There is _always_ a way out if you're smart enough to find it."

"Don't you rattle at him!" Cirrus snarled, jumping to his pedes and slamming against the bars, causing Starscream to jump back and flick his wing in startlement. "There _isn't_ a way out and as soon as you get that through your frayed circuits the better we'll _all_ be!"

"You've given up; wingless dead," Starscream's tone was of pity rather than anger. "I'm not. I'll fly again."

"Cirrus," Torrent murmured, then sighed and pushed himself up. Cirrus's wings immediately dropped. Torrent turned around. "He's young. Let him hope. It'll end soon enough."

Starscream huffed and flopped on his berth, half frustrated, half morning how lost the pair were. He really had no idea how to talk to them.

After a few kliks, he saw Torrent get up to his pedes and move to the corner closest to Cirrus. "I hope you find a way out, Starscream," he said, though in his voice he clearly didn't believe it was possible. He held his arm through the bars towards Cirrus, who reached back the same way. 

"How close are you?" Torrent asked. 

Cirrus curled an arm around his middle. "Feels like I might have half a metacycle, now."

Starscream watched them as he thought and plotted and generally bemoaned his lack of knowledge about breaking out. "Do you know how many others have been in this cell?"

Torrent sighed. "Flightplan was here when I got here. He could remember Seekers I'd never met. Try not to think about how long it's been ... but I know it's been 182 clutches." He shuddered. "It's been 446 eggs."

"Ninety one vorns, maybe ninety-two," Starscream didn't even think before he said it. He paused, not sure if he really wanted to know the next answer, but he needed to know. "How long do most last?" he asked quietly.

"They put Flightplan down after his 303rd clutch," Cirrus said when Torrent couldn't answer. "There's been others who didn't even make it half a century. There were three here in a row before me that were a decade each."

Starscream closed his optics and said a small, silent prayer for the departed. "How will they kill us?"

"Same as the sedation, but it's poison," Cirrus said quietly.

"Fast acting?" Starscream knew he was pressing a line he shouldn't, but he wanted to know _now_ , not when he was finding out first hand.

Torrent sobbed, curling in on himself.

"...Not really," Cirrus whispered. "Puts you out pretty fast but he didn't gray for almost a joor. Torrent thinks--"

"I could _feel_ his _field,_ " Torrent keened. "He was in pain the entire time!"

Starscream clenched his fists and silently cursed these monsters again. "I'm going to kill them all just as slowly. There's no excuse for that."

Cirrus just shook his head and tried to reach for Torrent again. Torrent reached back, and they got as close as they would ever be able in their lives.

"I'll hurt them for you too," Starscream murmured. "No excuse to isolate one. Not good for survival." He jerked as something occurred to him and rolled off the berth to scan for a camera he knew was watching. "You hear me? Seekers will last longer when they aren't separated!"

"They don't _care_ ," Cirrus said. "We're--we're _stock_ to them."

"Yes, stock that produces better the better they take care of us," Starscream reasoned, his processors flying even faster than his frame could. "Mechanimal husbandry 101. Safe, well-fed and content stock produce better, no matter what the product is." His optics narrowed and he looked at the camera. "That's why we're in threes. That's why the good energon, the flier-grade berths, the nice washracks, entertainment, the shifting light cycles, not disabling our vocalizers, thrusters, flight systems, movement. Isn't that right? You know we produce better when conditions are good. Well I'm telling you that Seekers need _physical contact_ with our kind. Look through your _thorough_ records and notice that the removed Seekers don't last as long."

Cirrus was staring at him, and so was Torrent, but before either of them could answer the door opened and Gravel and Lounge walked in.

"Start with the easy one?" Lounge glanced at his partner.

"Definitely. The red one's not going to be easy this time either," Gravel gave an annoyed look at Starscream. "He's going to take a few rounds to tame."

Lounge shrugged in agreement and walked into Cirrus's cell, grabbing the Seeker's wing and practically hauling him up onto his pedes and back to the berth. Starscream watched, seething at his inability to do anything and the casual disregard everyone had. At least the burnt orange and rich yellow one had seemed shocked they were people, even if he'd soon recovered. These mecha were just broken in the worst way. Lounge shoved inside Cirrus's frame and Starscream slammed into the bars. "Leave him alone!" he shouted. "Are you listening to me? _Leave him alone!_ " The grounders ignored him. Starscream snarled and rattled his wings. "Hey! Answer me!" 

"I hate the vocal ones," Lounge grunted as he pushed Cirrus. "Break my concentration." 

"I'll do a slag lot better than break your pathetic _concentration_ , you processor-deficient walking dead!" Starscream snarled, shaking his bars. "Why don't you try coming in here without sedating me!" 

"For Primus's sake," Lounge muttered as he thrust, and then apparently disengaged his audials because after that, nothing that Starscream yelled at him got so much as a hitch in the rhythm. Finally, he gave a short series of grunts, then a low groan as he shuddered and spilled into Cirrus. The blue Seeker looked like he couldn't even feel it and Starscream wanted to scream. 

And then the magnetic floor dragged him down, leaving him pressed uncomfortably against the bars as they drugged him and Gravel came in, pushing him onto his back. "It'd be easier on you if you would just move to the berth and spread out, you know," he said, as Lounge grabbed his hands to pin over his head. 

"Never going to make it that easy on you slag-sucking piece of scrap!" Starscream screeched despite the slurring.

"I can't wait until it's pushed out a few batches," Lounge commented as Gravel shoved inside. "Maybe it'll stop screeching all the time then." 

"Never!" Starscream tried to struggle, tried to fight, tried to hurt, but the drugs made every effort useless. "I'll get out. I'll make sure _all_ of you monsters know what a slow, pain filled death by that poison is like. I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"

"Oh, shut _up_ ," Lounge groaned, which only prompted Starscream to screech as loud as he could through the entire rape. 

* * *

Two orns after that, the pair reappeared, and Starscream was immediately at his bars and shouting and snarling as they walked right past him and Cirrus, going for Torrent. The green Seeker just looked at them and gave a low whine from his engines when they pressed the syringe into his neck. He didn't resist though, standing and walking to his berth to flop on his back before the sedative took effect.

Lounge followed him in and pulled something from his subspace, settling on the edge of the berth. It was black, and looked long and flexible, smooth, and after a moment Starscream realized it was the thing they'd pushed into his valve to fully induce heat. Torrent was just staring at the ceiling, looking completely impassive to the cocktail they'd just injected, and his legs fell apart. His valve was bared, and Lounge pushed the false spike in. He pulled it in and out in slow, smooth thrusts while turning his wrist. Starscream couldn't even hear Torrent's fans, and he wondered if the other Seeker was even capable of going into heat anymore. He'd felt it less than a klik after being injected. Torrent looked completely unaffected. 

But slowly, surely, his frame began to tense, his fingers dug into the padding, his back arched and his thighs spread wider. When he started to meet the thrusts with slow rocking, Lounge pulled the toy out and touched his cockpit.

Torrent whimpered, a soft keen escaping him as it slid to the side and his armor parted. Even Starscream could recognized conditioning when he saw it, at least when it was this blatant.

"How can you stand it, touching his spark right now?" Starscream demanded. "A pool of grief can't be fun."

"Seriously gonna look into some kind of muzzle for that one," Lounge said as his crystal spiraled open. 

"Boss'll say no," Gravel said, relaxing and watching. "You know he will. Doesn't want 'em muzzled." 

"It would still produce," Lounge said, then lowered his frame down over Torrent's and brought their sparks together. 

"Just turn your audials off. It'll stop screeching after a few clutches," Gravel shrugged. "Not like boss can do anything about that."

"That's such a pain," Lounge huffed, but seemed to do it anyway and stilled into the spark merge. Gravel continued to ignore Starscream's questions, threats and violent commentary, much to the Seeker's annoyance.

Starscream was never one to be ignored, no one should be ignored if one valued oneself. He fumed as the merge ended, glaring at the pair as they left the cell. Torrent immediately went for the small box with a desperation that embarrassed Starscream just to witness. He pulled the toy out and shoved it into his valve, whimpering, and Starscream looked away. 

The guards were moving onto Cirrus's where the process was repeated with Gravel overloading inside the dusky blue Seeker's valve, and then it was Starscream's turn. 

"So, are you going to stand still for this, or do we use the magnets again?" Lounge asked him while Gravel leaned against the wall by the switch.

Starscream snarled, and a moment later was slammed into the ground, injected, and mounted. He could hear Torrent overloading in the next cell, the desperate in-out of the toy, the sickening strike of Gravel hitting inside his valve. 

He'd never been happier to drop offline in his life. 


	2. A Prime's Coronation

Optimus Prime moved throughout the crowd of senators, legislators, judges, and nobles, feeling incredibly out of place. These were not his people, but they parted before him like an ocean. Helms were dipped in respect, and he'd already heard "your Grace" more times than he could keep track of. His coronation ceremony had been lauded as the biggest party of the millennia, and he had no problems believing that.

Despite being fully aware that they had their own agenda, he was immensely grateful for the pair of slender minibots at his sides. One matte black and embodying control through fear, the other bright silver and embodying control through charm. The silver one, Jazz, had been his friend long before he became Prime, and though he had long known that he had cultivated the relationship for information, he still trusted him. A trust that had deepened with the Matrix of Leadership and now extended to his commander, Whiplash.

He was also grateful for the mech constantly on the secured comm line with him, filling him in on details of all those around him. He didn't have the spark to tell Prowl that his now frighting complex social protocols and memory made most of it redundant. What Prowl did say that was new to him was well worth the repeats. He hadn't known Prowl personally before his upgrades, but as an archivist he knew the Praxian Enforcer Lieutenant intimately well. In many ways he knew him far better than the one at his side that he called a friend. So far asking Prowl to join him in an as-of-yet-unspecified position in the Prime's cabinet was the only notice that he was going to make changes. He felt confident that none of those in power had any idea just how much shaking up he intended to do once he was settled and had a few more he trusted.

Jazz and Whiplash would remain the representatives from Special Operations.

Prowl would become his Chief of Security.

A gifted medic and surgeon that went by Ratchet would soon be invited to be his personal physician, though that was just a cover to have the stubborn and outspoken mecha to advise him in medical matters, among other things.

Ironhide, a tough old soldier relegated to the middle of nowhere for being too outspoken and set in his morals would soon be his personal bodyguard and Chief of Defense.

The mecha who had worked for Sentinel would be given the option of gracefully stepping back from rank and continuing to serve, or of taking a quiet retirement. Optimus suspected that most would choose the latter, once they realized how things were going to be. In just a decaorn, he'd seen more indulgence and palm-greasing than he had in his entire life as Orion Pax. 

Prowl had advised him to not cancel the lavish coronation ceremonies, if only to see more of the same personally, and to get a better idea of what mecha were expecting, and who was expecting it. Jazz had voiced much the same opinion, though he had added a wealth of information on some individuals and social norms. He's also added that Optimus had better get used to some of it, because it wasn't going to go away completely.

He accepted another offered delicacy--some kind of fusion rust stick made with several metals, each one worth more than most mecha made in a vorn--and munched on it as he continued to wander, looking here and there. So far, he'd discovered that he didn't care for noble cuisine. Much of it was bitter and acidic in flavor, and he'd always preferred sweeter fares. And they seemed to pick at their fuel, never clearing a plate when some could be thrown away instead. They ate small amounts of many things.

It was as alien to him as he suspected sitting down with friends and a cube of basic high grade would be to them. That thought, of getting some of these mecha overcharged to see what they turned into, entertained his social processors for all of a quarter klik before he wandered by another station, this one larger than most.

"A slice of caevum, your Grace?" the server offered a strange looking circle of metallic and other components that made no sense to him as decorative or anything else.

It would be rude to say no, of course, and he was sure it wasn't the strangest thing on offer here tonight. "What is it?" Optimus asked politely as he lifted it. It was a small slice, no wider than his palm. The outer ring was stronger than it looked, and the center components had been fried and generously sprinkled with some kind of seasoning. 

"Ah!" the server said brightly, perking. "They are a very rare formation, completely natural, and very difficult to find. Even more dangerous to recover. A sublime delicacy for your Grace."

Optimus hummed with feigned interest and slipped the entire thing into his mouth, first letting it settle onto his glossa, and then starting to grind it down between his denta. It was bitter, like most of the fare, but he could also taste a refreshingly bright note of crystal, and of high quality. "Where are they found?" he asked. "I have never seen a formation like this."

"Some are on the moons, others deep underground here on Cybertron, your Grace. Those who collect them guard their sources," the server answered politely, with just a touch of 'I really don't know more than that.'

Optimus nodded politely, then turned and offered for Jazz and Whiplash to take some. 

Jazz's smile looked patient, or indulgent, Optimus was never quite sure. "Nah, mech," he said with the strange grin, and Whiplash simply gave him the same look he'd been getting all night every time he addressed them. The one that was supposed to remind him that in public, they were not to be interacted with as equals, but should be allowed to remain as static entities by his side. 

Optimus shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. The crystal note in this dish had been the only flavorful thing all night so he accepted another slice, picked through it for that part, and left the rest behind to be thrown away. 

There. He could fit in, sometimes.

The rest of the evening passed at a similar crawl, and Optimus had never been more grateful to see the dawn. Dawn meant the party had wound down enough that he could escape without causing ill will, and he did so the moment he could.

Jazz and Whiplash were right behind him the whole way, following him back to his quarters. 

Well, his Residence. 

He sighed as he walked into the massive series of chambers, washracks, and sitting rooms. He hadn't had the time or energy to do much with the place other than to claim a single berthroom as his own. It was as lavish as the party had been, full of unnecessary excess. Jazz had persuaded him, finally, that as Prime he was allowed to take _some_ luxuries, and even that he _should_ have some given how much was about to be on his plate, but the obvious harem setup was far past where the former archivist drew the line.

"So just how excessive was that for a party?" Optimus asked wearily as he sank into a chair in the sitting area of his berthroom and poured himself a half cube of sweet mild grade. He hardly needed the energy, but he very much wanted the bitter tastes out of his mouth.

"Not gonna lie, that was pretty excessive, even for that lot," Jazz said with a chuckle as Whiplash vanished to check over the suites. He looked up at Optimus, head cocked. "How ya doin', big guy?"

"Worn out. I know I'll be grateful for the social protocol upgrades when I'm used to them, but they're still a strain to rely on. I've got more dedicated to just that than I used to have to run everything," he gave his long-time friend and occasional lover a smile. "Honest report, how did I handle it?"

"They were feelin' ya out," Jazz said as he jumped up onto the lounge that was sized for a much bigger mech than he was. He perched, regarding Optimus. "Ya' obviously not one'a them, and ya made that clear tonight, but they ain't scared. They're thinkin' they might get another Sentinel out'a ya." 

"You did well," Whiplash said gruffly as he reappeared. "Stuck to your roots, didn't give in to the frivolity, didn't offend anyone."

"That last one's more important than seems sane," Optimus sighed, but hummed a thanks for the feedback. "Though they're going to be quite disappointed when they realize I intend to bring more than one outsider into my cabinet. I will not be another Sentinel Prime, or Nova Prime."

Jazz grinned at him. "Should make for an interesting time," he said. 

Whiplash grunted in agreement. "Considering the fares they were serving, they were hoping to find another one of their own in you. 

Jazz's grin faded. "Right," he said, and leaned back. "Yeah, 'bout that. There was more'n a few black market items in there. They're hopin' you'll continue same as Sentinel and partake, or at least look away."

Optimus twitched as he stiffened. "Black market rare enough that Prowl didn't recognize them. Which items, and why are they illegal?"

Jazz tilted his head back and forth a few times as he thought. "Well ... couple were metals from protected lands, stuff ya need a permit for, just because they're so rare and can't be replaced. Some'a those alloys are just about exhausted naturally." 

Whiplash nodded in agreement as he looked up at the Prime. "There were several instances of seasonings made from living metal. It's a bit of a fetish-fare, honestly. Mecha do it in the privacy of their own homes, mostly, and between consenting partners, but you can imagine that some of it isn't taken so nicely." 

"Legal if consensual, and nearly impossible to prove as assault without a victim statement," Optimus summarized as he rubbed his temple with two fingers. "I'll need to be able to recognize them by the next event."

"And then the caevum was the worst of it," Jazz said.

That focused Optimus's attention sharply on the silver minibot with dread bubbling up from his tanks. "Why?"

Jazz and Whiplash glanced at each other. 

"That one is never legal," Whiplash said. "Ever. Even if it were legal to kill another mecha with his consent to consume, it would never be legal to kill a sparkling. No administration has ever attempted to go after the production and trade." 

"Sentinel loved 'em," Jazz added with a shrug. "Seeker eggs."

Optimus made a choking sound as his field exploded outward in abject horror that rapidly converted to personal horror as it pulled back in tightly. "The crystal ... was a spark chamber." He barely managed to get out. "How could anyone _knowingly_ want to consume...."

"Because just one costs a fortune," Whiplash said. "Status symbol, if you can afford them. They're a blacklisted item, so it shows you have connections." 

"As I understand it, they were a primary source of nutrition in pre-civilization times," Jazz said, and Whiplash hummed an affirmative. "One of the reasons all the airframes fled to the moons."

Optimus was trembling by the time Jazz finished speaking, his warm blue optics nearly white with rage. "This ends _now_ ," he growled, a low rumble worthy of a warrior Prime defending Primus's very spark. "Suppliers, buyers, traders. They have no rights from this moment forward."

There was a noticeable beat of silence before Jazz untucked his frame and rose to his pedes, head just higher than Optimus's as he stood on the lounge. "My Prime," he said, slowly, and carefully as their optics met. "An operation like this must be handled delicately." 

"The last two Primes have done far more than turn a blind optic," Whiplash added. "This is a small but flourishing market. If you command me to take my mecha and arrest every known consumer or seller, I will do it. But the _real_ suppliers, the ones producing the product, will scatter and vanish."

"Do it as you see fit," Optimus forced himself to settle, to _think_ , past his own horror that he'd eaten part of a sparkling. "You know that world. You know how to hunt and get results. I trust you to do this right so it doesn't come back. But if I _see_ someone serving caevum, I will not hold quiet on it."

"Understood, my Prime," Whiplash said. "We will start the necessary work. You won't see results for quite a long time."

"And in your diplomatic relations with Vos, you should avoid discussing it," Jazz warned. "The laws were put in place primarily to pacify them. They were never intended to be enforced on a grand scale." 

"We've busted some minor dealers in the past, the ones that steal from the moons, made a big deal out of them," Whiplash said. "But not the major players. They have well-hidden operations on the planet."

Optimus nodded, slowly, as he pulled his emotions under control. "I will avoid speaking of it. I trust that you can stop this in time. Time costs sparks, but not doing this right and shutting it down fully will cost far more." He hesitated. "As useful as I know Prowl's processors would be in this, only bring him in if you are sure he can handle holding off until you believe it is time to move. For the same reason, keep me largely out of the loop unless you deem it important that I know details about someone I will be dealing with. At least not until I am much better at socializing with them."

Jazz snorted. "Right. That won't be a problem." 

"What he means is, we're used to playing by ourselves," Whiplash said with a small smile. "We've had the groundwork laid out for this for a while, we just needed a Prime to authorize putting it in motion and going after the major players."

Optimus nodded, relieved and focusing on queuing up his reactions to eating a sparkling, and _liking_ the spark chamber, to process as he recharged. "Good," he sagged as the weight of the evening and the revelations came down on him. "Was there anything else we should discuss before I recharge?"

"Nada, boss," Jazz said, patting his shoulder. "See ya around."

"Generally when I least expect it," Optimus chuckled and stood to go to his berth, knowing the pair would leave in their own way and time. If it gave the appearance that one or both were the beginning of a harem, he couldn't find it in himself to object.

* * *

"This is stupid," Jazz said. 

"It isn't," Whiplash said calmly.

" _He's_ stupid." 

"He's the Prime's closest and most trusted adviser, and you know he isn't stupid. Prime wants him in on this, so he's in on this." 

Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor as they arrived at the control room they'd arranged for the debriefing to be in. "Fine, but you can't say he isn't boring as slag." 

"Did you read the mech's file? He's _anything_ but boring," Whiplash laughed. "A bit uptight, but he's going to be a blast to play with."

"If you play with me, be careful I do not find out," a deep, almost unnaturally even voice startled them both from behind, though neither showed it.

They turned as one and Whiplash curled his mouth up into a subtle smile. Jazz's grin was the exact opposite. "What makes you think you would find out?" Jazz asked. 

"Historical odds," the Praxian's doorwings shrugged as the door closed and locked behind him. "I understand the Prime wished me to be read into a mission."

Whiplash inclined his helm as they all sat down around the round table, typing in his passcode and swiping his palm to clear all three of them to his security level for the duration of the conversation. "Has the Prime filled you in on the delicacy he tried at his coronation ceremonies called caevum?"

"In a manner of speaking. He was in a less than fully coherent state of processor," Prowl answered. "I have learned they are an immature stage of Seeker, and thus possessing one if not the creator would be mecha-napping and the actual delicacy is murder."

"That's it in a nutshell," Jazz said with a shrug. "Y'know how Seekers _reproduce_ instead'a bein' created from Vector Sigma? They come out in eggs first, the eggs are the delicacy. Hard as Pit to grab, and you're more'n likely ta die tryin' ta raid a nest, but there's an underground market for it that's, for lack of a better word, flourished under the last two Primes." 

"Both Nova and Sentinel indulged in traditional caevum fare," Whiplash added. 

Doorwings twitched and Prowl's expression went momentarily slack before it sharpened with a much colder, perfectly controlled rage that was still easily as intense as Optimus Prime's. "I see," his voice was just a bit more clipped than before, though it wasn't easy to tell. "In what capacity will I be assisting this op?"

"As I understand it, you are incredibly skilled at managing networks and predicting probable outcomes," Whiplash said. "Can you do that with individual mecha as well?" 

"Yes," Prowl said, and he almost sounded insulted by the question. 

Whiplash shrugged. "Then that's what we'll use you for. We can use a program for it, but it lacks the intuition that you're reported to possess." 

"Where is the data?" Prowl requested. 

"Still gathering. I'll let you know when I have enough to feel comfortable with," Whiplash said. "We caught a lucky break and one of the conmechs we keep an optic on got tempted by the credits, and then got squeamish about the business." 

"Easy ta control with all the slag we've got on him, and what excuse he has of a conscience," Jazz added with a grin.

Prowl flicked his doorwings in understanding. "Typical of a useful snich. Is there anything else, or may I return to work?"

"Chop chop," Jazz said, waving him off. 

"No more questions?" Whiplash asked, bemused.

"Just one. Why did you bother to read me in before you had anything for me to do?" Prowl said with a distinctly annoyed flick of his doorwings.

"So that when we start data communications you'll be prepared," Whiplash said, earning a look something between bewildered and insulted from Prowl. "I though we might go over what we've built so far for data collection if you're interested, or we can just get you information when we have it. Whichever you think you'll work more efficiently with."

"I would begin with what you have and add data as it is acquired," Prowl said firmly and held out his hand. "How often do you wish reports?"

They stared at his hand for a moment. 

"Well you're just all business," Jazz said, grinned, and held his hand out in response. "What's this for?"

"The data was offered. I expected it to be given," Prowl gave a dismissive flick of his doorwings as he stood that warned both SpecOps agents they were now very much on his bad side. "I expected such long-surviving SpecOps agents to be competent enough to not waste everyone's time. My record and commander briefings are accurate. It seems yours are not."

"We ... operate on a more flexible schedule," Whiplash said, elbowing Jazz and stopping Prowl as he turned to leave. "We thought you would have more questions. We don't have hard copies of most of this yet. It's too risky."

Prowl's engine gave an annoyed grumble but he gave Whiplash a hard look. "What questions were you _expecting_ from me?"

"Figured you'd want to know a bit more about the nitty gritty," Jazz said with a shrug. 

"Very little is known about Seekers," Whiplash said, sounding like he was reciting from a textbook. "They're reclusive, and violently protect that. We wanted to see what you know about their reproduction cycle, answer any questions, fill you in on how the breeding facilities we've busted have operated." 

"I expected that in the files you would provide," Prowl shrugged his doorwings slightly. "I am accustomed to working with those who understand what a tactical planner is, does and needs," he explained as he sat down with an annoyed and somewhat resigned sound. "Praxian Special Operations used me often enough that I expected you to understand the same. The basics are very simple. You provide me with all the data you deem relevant that you possess, the goal and restrictions on any plans and a timeline for when you need those plans. I download the data, enter parameters, and process it until I have three plans with a minimum of 98.6% probability of success and no more than a 1% collateral damage expectation unless told otherwise. When I have those plans, I present them, answer questions, and leave it to those who will carry out my plans. On rare occasion the situation is fluid and complex enough to requite my ongoing and active participation in the raids. I have that training and the targeting systems to use it, though it is rare opportunity for me to be in the field."

Prowl regarded the pair staring at him. "Would I be correct in assessing that was not what you expected?"

"You would," Whiplash said, but he didn't look bothered. 

"You sound like a damn AI," Jazz huffed.

"My tac-net is one, for all practical purposes. The difference is that by being installed in a functional mecha with a spark, it also has full access to my experience and protocols," Prowl told him evenly.

"So I hear you saying we barely hafta see ya," Jazz said. "Suits me." 

"Unless you have data you do not trust to put on a server for me to access, that is correct," Prowl flicked his doorwings in confirmation.

"I will put together a file," Whiplash said. 

"Good. Is there anything you wish to know?" Prowl asked.

"Nope," Jazz said, smiling, and waved. "Bye then."

Prowl mostly ignored him, focusing on Jazz's commander for the actual call. Whiplash shook his helm at his subordinate and looked at Prowl. "No, I'll drop by and give you a datachip to download when I have it compiled. I'll have a timeline for you then."

Prowl nodded, stood and left with typical Praxian grace but much less frame language.

"That mecha as his screws too tight," Jazz shook his helm. "He is going to be fun to play with."

"It will be interesting. Prime must see something in him I don't. He has a good record, but nothing that would make me trust him on a first meeting," Whiplash shook his helm. "You want to watch him for a while, or help me compile those files?"

"It'd be like watchin' metal melt," Jazz said. "I'd rather do deskwork." 

"Never thought I'd hear that," Whiplash snickered and rose to leave. "Come on then."


	3. Fate of the Eggs

Starscream paced around his cell anxiously, hand pressed absently to his middle, where he could feel the weight of the developing eggs. It was a strange sensation, to feel his internal mechanics slowly moving out of the way to make space for the shells. They felt heavy, and had become a constant presence in his processors. Somehow he knew that their window of opportunity to support life was nearly expired. He didn't know _how_ he knew, but if he didn't merge in the next few orns, they would reabsorb back into his frame for fuel and nutrients. 

Which meant that the grounders knew, too.

Unless by some strange miracle his systems were running on a different algorithm for how long he had, he'd soon be spark raped again. He knew what to expect now, and he was not going to pass up the opportunity to cause these monsters _pain_. His memories did not go far back and nothing came close to what he was facing now, but he had knowledge and will and hate to fuel it.

Whoever touched his spark would pay dearly for the offense.

"Whatever you're planning, just don't," Torrent said. He was curled up on his berth, watching him. "They'll just take away your flight simulator."

Starscream shuddered at the thought of losing the only connection he had to the sky. Yet he wanted to _hurt_ these monsters more. His wings flicked and shivered with the conflict. Self-preservation demanded that he do nothing to risk his wings. His very spark demanded that he make those who had hurt him pay.

Torrent watched his twitching expression for another few moments, and then when the door opened, rolled over so he was facing away. "You'll regret it," he sighed, and offlined his optics. 

"Give you a hundred shannix if you go in there without sedating it," Lounge snickered.

"I'll behave," Starscream said sweetly, doing his best to act submissive and relegated.

"Not even for a vorn's wage," Gravel sorted before giving Starscream a wary look. Without hesitation he turned on the magnets. "That one's going to be trouble 'til the joor we get rid of it. Tranq it."

"Suit yourself," Lounge said with a shrug and got the drugs into Starscream quickly. Another klik went by and they entered the cell, dragging Starscream onto his back on the berth. Starscream stayed limp and unresisting, letting them get him into place without his usual fuss. 

"Do you think it's sick?" Gravel asked uneasily. 

"I think it wants its eggs fertilized," Lounge said with a shrug as he went to hold Starscream's arms down. "Instinct and all. They're more like mechaanimals than people in some ways." 

Gravel rumbled in agreement and moved over Starscream, tapping his chest. 

He shuddered, resisting for a moment before closing his optics, focusing inward to fill his spark everything horrible, painful and revolting that he could imagine. Then he signaled his armor to open.

Gravel pressed in and their sparks brushed, and then merged without resistance. 

Starscream wasn't experienced at this, not the way he knew some mecha were, but he'd merged a few times and even if he couldn't trap a spark with his own, he could push over everything he was thinking. Gravel's spark flinched, and then shuddered, and Starscream felt the grounder's field spasm with shock. With a vindictive smile that he kept off his faceplates, he delved into what happened to a mecha when it was cooked alive, along with the knowledge that _Gravel's_ creations had suffered that fate because he raped Seekers in here.

The lack of care that slammed back into him shocked him, and Starscream realized suddenly that the grounders didn't think of these as _their_ creations. When Starscream shifted the disturbing imagery to a more generic idea of _creation_ he found the same result. Gravel simply couldn't connect with the concept of them. The eggs were an abhorrent product from a depraved race that had been cut off from Primus himself, who perverted their very lives by making new sparks with each other, instead of taking Primus's gift of life. 

But Gravel _was_ fixated on the vividly imagined mech that was slowly melting away. He was horrified by it. 

It wasn't want he wanted to hurt Gravel with, but he'd take what he could and added details, sensations, every scrap of data his processors could calculate. When there was nothing left he moved on to deactivation of another generic grounder being eaten alive by scraplets. Slowly.

~Stop,~ Gravel hissed, slamming his spark forward into Starscream's as hard as he could.

Starscream met the assault by enveloping it, surrounding his assailant's very life with every horrible way to deactivate and be desecrated as he could come up with. He was particularly pleased by the reaction to being torn apart from the inside by being valve-raped by an Omega Sentinel.

What Starscream far lacked in experience he made up for in imagination and strength--his spark was _strong_ , stronger than this artificially sparked one from a dead machine--and he took joy in Gravel's suffering. 

The grounder was pulsing his spark rapidly in order to overload and disengage, and finally, with a painful shudder, he managed it. Energy swept through Starscream and pooled deep in his frame where he could feel the eggs. 

When Gravel pulled away, he was snarling and violent and Lounge had to grab him to keep him from striking at the Seeker.

"What the _pit_ are you thinking?" Lounge physically hauled Gravel off a pliant Starscream. "You know what the boss'll do to you if you damage it! It's worth more than _both_ our paychecks! Worth more than _we_ are to the boss."

"That one is _demented,_ " Gravel growled as he got hold of himself, a process that happened much faster as he remembered the consequences, confirmed and implied. "I'm not merging with it again."

"You'll do you job or you won't be here long," Lounge shrugged as he pulled Gravel out of the cell and locked it down. "Don't want to merge with it again? Quit before you get reprimanded."

Gravel shook Lounge off. "Won't be up to merge with it for another vorn anyway, and my vorn's up before then." 

"Thought you signed on for a five-vorn assignment," Lounge said. 

"Yeah but I can still request a transfer," Gravel said, shuddering as he tried to clear his memory of the images that felt burned into his spark. "C'mon I need some high grade."

"Right," Lounge gave him a wary look, then glanced at the red and white Seeker as it sank into recharge on its berth.

When the door closed, Torrent whistled softly to see if Starscream was really in recharge and got a wing-twitch that he wasn't. "What did you _do?_ He's one of the calm ones."

"Ev'ry ... painful way to ... deactivate," Starscream murmured, concentrating on making his speech clear. "Slow. Melting. Torn apart by ... Omega spike. Weak spark. Eaten."

"That is messed up," Torrent muttered. "Still get you in trouble."

"Maybe," Cirrus added. "He didn't resist, didn't stop the kindling. Those ones don't make punishments. Only guards and owner."

"He'll just find someone meaner to come in now," Torrent muttered, curling on his side. 

Starscream listened absently as they talked about him and the likely consequences to the spark attack. Most of his focus was on the strange sensations in his frame. Tingling, almost. Something pulsing so fast that it was a hum. Where before he'd felt just weight, now he felt warmth, and distinctions between the warmth. 

Three. 

There were three eggs, all of them warm with life. Each one's resonance was unique, and they mixed together to fill him.

"Do they speak?" Starscream asked randomly, startling both other Seekers into silence. "Before they come out, are the seekerlings sentient?"

Neither Torrent nor Cirrus answered for almost a klik, and then it was Torrent who finally murmured. "Sort of. I can always teek them, they respond to your mood." 

"Sometimes you can hear them, too," Cirrus said, wrapping an arm around his own egg-heavy middle. "Not glyphs, just sounds. Really quiet." 

"I had three once who sang to each other," Torrent said, the broken smile clear in his voice. "In perfect harmonies."

Starscream listened to the more experienced carriers talk and knew he was in trouble because he was really _listening_ to them, as he'd have listened to his flock elders to guide him through his first carry for a trine. Only he was listening to them better than he ever listened to his flock.

He had to get out of here while he could still fly.

And for the first time, he wasn't thinking of just himself.

* * *

Starscream was walked to the washrack at gunpoint. The first few times he'd been drugged, locked in stasis cuffs, dragged and thrown in, but he was trying something new. He was trying to act like the other two broken Seekers, and hopefully lure the grounders into a false sense of security.

So far, it seemed to be working. They weren't nearly as relaxed as they were with the other two, but they were being less careful with him. Not lax enough to act, but a good sign that the plan was working.

He walked into the washrack without incident, and it was a nice one, designed for fliers. The door locked behind him. When they were irritated with him, he'd have a joor. When he was compliant, they let him stay until he asked out.

There were cameras in here, so it wasn't quite the solitude he was craving, an escape from the ever-present gaze on his changing frame, but he could at least hold his wings up and face the wall. The solvent rinse turned on and he shivered, then sighed, and wrapped his arm around his middle. As much as he tried to deny his growing attachment, the strengthening bond, he couldn't. Especially not in here where he had an illusion of privacy.

He wanted to feel nothing for these eggs inside him. Wanted to feel like it wouldn't matter when they were taken, but he couldn't. So he plotted, planned and was going to be ready when the monsters came for them. He'd watched Torrent tried to hide an egg. He'd soon find out what Cirrus did. He knew that neither worked. He also knew they neither was as smart as he was. Starscream could calculate vectors, force and his own systems far better than anyone in this facility.

He'd be ready when they came. If he could avoid being sedated he could make them pay dearly for entering his cell. Kill both of them fast enough and he could get out of the magnetic zone. Beyond that he knew he could escape this place with his eggs and the other two, if they came.

It _had_ to work. Losing this fight wasn't an option. Losing... 

He could tell their fields apart now. When he was upset, they became distressed. When he relaxed, so did they. He grieved that they wouldn't learn the feeling of his joy for a long time. Carriers should be with trine and flock, cared for, celebrating the new life. Starscream couldn't give them joy. 

He x-vented and traced his hands over the expanding plating, carefully checking the seams for grime or other impurities, rubbing in a careful massage. He couldn't give them joy, but he could give him love, and he felt it returned. He could give them comfort, and feel them relax. He could give them a future, if he was smart and fast enough.

He had to be. He would be. He was Starscream, and Starscream didn't fail.

It took everything in him not to give early designations to them. They wouldn't get their real designations until after they hatched, were walking and past the greatest dangers of newly separated existence, but every creator gave their eggs designations to make it easier to discuss them and talk to them. 

Starscream didn't dare, but he knew he already had. He wouldn't say them. He wouldn't actively think them. But they had designations.

He wondered if Torrent and Cirrus had named theirs, and then realized there was no way they hadn't. They probably remembered every single one. 

He wondered if he would--

 _No._ Because he would have three, and only three. He'd never meant to have any, but he had them now, and he loved them. He wanted them. 

His middle was clean, but he kept rubbing it.

He'd return to Vos, return to his flock until they were grown. He didn't have a trine and he still didn't want one, but his flock would take him back and help him raise these creations. His creator-trine and flock, no matter their differences, would never turn him away for being raped by a grounder and returning with new life. It was inconceivable, even to his anti-social nature.

Yes, he'd lull these grounders into a sense of safety, that being egg-heavy made him mellow. He wouldn't have been the first Seeker to react to carrying that way. It just wasn't true for him. Not that they'd know it was a lie until it was far too late.

He'd show them the dangers of caging him. Oh, he most definitely would make them regret every indignity and injury they'd inflicted on him and the others.

But for now, he had to be calm, act passive, behave ... all the things that went against his nature.

At least he didn't have to pretend to care for the eggs. That was real. He imagined taking them on their first flight, introducing them to the skies, and he heard the tiny protoforms trilling in response. It wasn't audible, not exactly, but he could feel it through his frame.

He focused on those thoughts while he rubbed his distended abdomen. Flight, freedom, their rightful place in the world. Seekers were masters of the skies and Starscream the fastest and most agile of them. They would fly strong, fast and well.

They were _his_. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ , let anything to happen to them. 

He didn't know how he'd be able to survive it. 

* * *

Starscream was pulled out of recharge through a sudden boot that left his sensors primed and frame tense. A moment later, he realized why. 

Low, distressed clicking was coming from Cirrus's cell, and he could see Torrent reaching for him, trilling quietly, soothingly.

He wasn't even fully aware of himself as he moved to the bars and reached as well, chirring and cooing softly. His processors felt foggy, overridden by surging creator code. There was nothing he could do but offer vocal comfort and watch as Cirrus slowly expelled a single egg from the top of his chest. He'd shifted to the correct position; aft up, shoulders low, arms spread and kneeling on the softness of several blankets so the egg could slide out easily to land safely and settle between his arms.

Then, instead of settling it into his nest, he just curled around it, lowering onto his side and tipping forward, over it. His wings were to the door and he was whispering softly, stroking and soothing his egg with empty promises of safety and love. Starscream could see faint pink light shining out.

Part of him that was functional recognized that he was making it extremely difficult for the guards to sedate him, and even when they did, it would be difficult to get the egg away from him. He was almost on top of it.

Starscream began to use that information to add to his own plan of protection.

Not even two kliks went by before the lights snapped on and the pair of guards walked in, the same ones as last time, complaining about how laying always seemed to occur on their off-shift. Cirrus's wings tensed and he shoved himself as far as he could into the corner. Starscream snarled at the grounders. 

_Enemy_

_Predator_

_Egg thief_

Torrent was echoing his distress, and the guards ignored both Seekers as they used their deficient processors to work out how to inject Cirrus.

One shifted back, just a little too far, and Starscream didn't even register his own movements until he had a hand on an arm and was dragging the screaming guard into his cell, cracking armor that wasn't good enough to stand up to creator-code inflamed insanity and bars that were designed to keep a large war-frame Seeker contained.

The shriek sounded dim, but he felt immense satisfaction when his claws sank into the neck cabling and he _tore_ , severing wires and cables, feeling energon spill over his hands. The thrashing guard was flailing and trying to reach him, but the bars kept stopping his remaining hand. The other one was there, trying to get the sedatives into Starscream, who just kept ripping and gouging until the head came off in his hands. 

Without thinking, he used the helm as a weapon against the other, pummeling him with it, before striking downward and trying to get to the spark chamber from above. He wasn't a warrior, but like all Seekers he had strong claws and the coding to kill. The claws driven by the protective coding were more than strong enough to tear out the pulsing yellow light. He felt its fear, its pain and struggle, and labeled _egg thief_ Starscream reveled in it as the chamber shattered in his claws. Instinct targeted the next one and he grabbed the syringe stick around the shaft, yanking it out of the second guard's hands.

There was noise and more frames beyond the bars, more sticks to catch and tear away. More _egg thieves_ to kill.

But instead of sticks, he heard the magnets engage, and he was slammed, screeching in fury to the floor. The second guard was trapped there with him, one arm through the bars, and Starscream fought with all his strength to maul as much of that frame as he could. He felt his thrusters fire and while he didn't move, the surging heat began to meld and destroy the monster he held onto. Torrent was screaming at the guards, drawn up into the same fury as Starscream as they tried to protect their vulnerable kin.

Then the guard, minus an arm from the shoulder joint, was dragged out of reach and the needle was in his neck.

Starscream kept struggling, trying to get up, trying to reach, trying _anything_ to draw attention away from the freshly separated egg.

And at least for a little while, Cirrus seemed safe, as the single on-site medic came rushing blearily in, smelling of high grade and barking orders about how to deal with the gray frame while he stopped the bleeding in the other's. The second pair of guards was looking over the scene, the feeling of encrypted comm chatter strong in the air. 

"Right," one of them finally said, shaking his helm. He flipped off the magnets holding Starscream down and the Seeker threw himself back at the bars, to be completely ignored. "Boss says to retrieve the product. He'll be coming in to sort this mess out, and then it's heaps of reports for all of us." He looked at his injured colleague, then to the medic, who shook his head.

"Not this one, you two'll have to get it," he said. 

The guard sighed and looked at his partner, who was staring at the deactivated frame, looking ill. "Get a stick and let's get this one sedated so we can get it over with," he pushed the ill looking one towards the door. "Don't get in reach, _like protocol says_ , and we don't get hurt. You know they aren't in control when it comes to eggs. Even the most docile ones freak out."

"Yeah, yeah," the shaken guard muttered and moved. He came back a couple kliks later with a syringe stick and the pair went to work getting it into Cirrus.

It took a bit of maneuvering, and Cirrus held them off for almost ten kliks by snapping two and dodging another, but when both of them came at him with stronger metal syringes, they finally got the drug in.

Cirrus started hissing and snarling as the drug took his frame's control away from him and his wings gradually slumped, but his egg was still safely protected beneath his frame. They would have to physically move him to get to it, and no amount of drug could take the danger away from that.

"Pits damn it," one guard hissed as he realized they were going to have to go in and handle the still dangerous Seeker.

"You grab the egg while I keep it standing," the other suggested.

"Pff, fine. Paint the bullseye on me." He glanced at the medic. "You sober enough to remember how to turn the failsafe on?" he asked. 

The medic glared at him in response. 

The guard sighed. "Guess that'll have to do. All right, let's go." He opened the cell door and they rushed in, one going for Cirrus's wings and grabbing both near the center, yanking him up and back. It wasn't enough to make him let go of his egg, but between the position and the drugs, the guard got the egg with only limited scratches. He was out the door before the one holding Cirrus turned the Seeker around, gave him a shove towards the back of the cell and bolted for the safety of the hallway.

Cirrus tried, stumblingly, to follow, but his uncoordinated limbs got tangled up in each other and he fell forward, landing hard on his cockpit. The latch of the cell door was drowned out by Starscream and Torrent's frenzied screaming, but Cirrus wailed when he saw his egg through the bars. He clawed himself forward and reached through them, pleading to have it back, sobbing. 

"What a mess," the guard holding the egg muttered as he opened up the log file. 

"Let's get out of their sight first," his partner grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the door. "You know they calm down once they can't see it anymore."

"Yeah, hang on, just need the on-site authorization. All right, sign, we'll fill it out in the office."

The guard signed and they looked to the medic. "You need help, or something?" one asked. 

The medic stood a little unsteadily. "No, I've got a transport about this size, think I've got it."

They nodded and left, leaving the third guard behind as the medic left to get the hover stretcher, leaving the three Seekers alone with the deactivated frame and a guard that was definitely no longer a threat.

The hisses, snarls and threats quickly shifted to clicks and trills of comfort while Cirrus keened the loss.

"Would you fragging shut _up_ ," the guard growled after a few kliks, looking at the mourning carrier. " _Primus._ "

"Come in here and make me," Starscream shot back as he shook the mech's dismembered arm at him. "I'll tear you apart just like I did that one."

"Fragging mechanimals," the guard hissed to himself. 

" _Savages!_ " Cirrus screamed. "Murderers, thieves, _thieves!_ "

"Doesn't say much about you, if mechanimals are more socially advanced. After all, we don't eat anything that might grow up to talk," Starscream sneered.

"They're just _eggs!_ " the guard said, and all three Seekers stopped their noise for just a moment, shocked that one of the grounders had actually responded to them. 

It didn't last long. 

"And you're just a bigger collection of talking parts!" Torrent shouted. "Frag you! Frag all of you! Why don't you just eat each other and leave us alone!"

"Can you _please_ try to not get them riled back up?" the medic sighed as he came in with the mecha-sized hover stretcher. He was rubbing his helm. "Today's gonna suck slag enough already."

" _Why_ are they so upset about eggs?" the guard huffed as he helped get himself on the hover stretcher. "It's just eggs."

The medic hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the sobbing Cirrus, his expression softening for just a moment before he turned back around with a shrug. "Slag me if I know. Something to do with their reproduction. It's very _organic._ "

"Something?" Starscream howled. "They _become_ Seekers. You are _eating_ _mecha!_ "

The medic cringed at the shrill voice, then snorted. " _We_ aren't," he said. "That slag's worth a decade of work, and boss isn't frugal with the pay." 

"They're not really mecha," the guard grunted to the medic. "No souls." 

"You're the ones created by a _machine!_ " Starscream's voice went up two full octaves. "We hold true to the gift Primus gave all descendents of the Thirteen. Your kind are the abomination!"

The medic cringed and held a hand to the audial closest to Starscream. "Just scrap today now," he said, and left with the injured guard. 

The lights dimmed moments after they left and Cirrus wailed. 

* * *

For three orns, no one came in or out of the holding area. Their energon was delivered as usual through the walls in the backs of their cells, but otherwise, they didn't see any signs of life. 

When Gravel and Lounge came back in, they looked wary, and saw to Torrent first before standing out of reach of Starscream's cage, just looking at him. 

"I do not want to go in there," Gravel said, staring at the Seeker who had killed one guard and crippled another by mauling. A Seeker that was currently laying on the berth, hands on his distended abdomen, legs spread and valve cover open.

"It was just code. The guards. Not us," Lounge responded, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"Oh easy for you to say," Gravel said, and armed himself with a syringe anyway.

Lounge peered at it. "What dose is that?" 

"Triple," Gravel said. 

"You can't use that every time, you know," Lounge said. "'Less you want it out of your paycheck." 

"Might be worth it to stay alive," Gravel said as he opened the door and walked in. Lounge hovered near the magnet controls. 

Gravel walked slowly over to Starscream and very carefully reached over, pushing the drugs in. The Seeker barely twitched, and quickly went from relaxed, to lax, to borderline unconscious to completely out.

Gravel huffed, decided that it was safe, and climbed on top of him. The legs were already apart and he placed his hands inside the thighs, pushing up and back. When Starscream's frame rolled back slightly, Gravel extended his spike and pressed in. 

"At least it's quiet for once," Lounge said with a smirk. Torrent was watching from where he was huddled up in a corner, and Cirrus was laying prone on the floor, still not moving as he grieved. 

"Might just make the pay cut worth it," Gravel grunted as he thrust, working himself up as quickly as he could with such an unresponsive frame.

"Ever wonder why we don't do this with just an injection or something?" Lounge asked after a few kliks of watching. 

"Boss says the interfacing makes the eggs better, or something," Gravel said. "Gets 'em--uhn--primed, was what he said. Triggers growth."

"False spike wouldn't work?" Lounge asked. 

Gravel shook his head with another low grunt as his thrusts sped up. 

"Weird. Not very nice either, if the carrier doesn't even get to overload. Seems cruel with all they go through already," Lounge muttered to himself.

"The frag's wrong with you?" Gravel snapped at him. "They--oh, _frag_ \--" He cut off with a groan as he overloaded, gripping Starscream's legs as he pumped fluid inside. A klik later and he slumped, fans whirring. "They've got everything they need," he said. "Even stuff for overloading. Which is a lot better than they deserve, they're _animals_." 

"I was thinking about in nature," Lounge shrugged.

"Ah, yeah," Gravel said as he cleaned himself off. "Yeah, they're brutal. Did you know if one of 'em can't fly the others kill it? Just like that. Just..." He made a slashing motion across his neck.

Lounge shuddered and unlocked the cell for Gravel to come out, then locked it again. "Barbaric."

"And the Prime wants to stop population control," Gravel snorted, shaking his head. "Ridiculous. Can you believe they're allowed to come to Cybertron now?"

"If they weren't we wouldn't have such good jobs," Lounge pointed out. "Never try to understand what politicians do. They're even less like the rest of us than those are," he motioned to Starscream.

Gravel snickered. "Seriously," he said, as he finished the log entry, read it out loud, and they both signed. "Wanna grab a vid and a drink?"

"Definitely," Lounge grinned and they left.

The room returned to its former silence for another groon before Starscream's optics flickered back on, finding him in the same spread-out position they'd left him in. He groaned and held a hand up to his helm. "Vertigo," he mumbled.

"The drug will wear off," Torrent cooed. "Try to shut down for a joor. Recharge it out."

Starscream nodded and rolled onto his side, pulling blankets and pillows around in a clumsy, uncoordinated effort to build up a nest. When he was satisfied with the results, haphazard as they were, he curled up and shut down.

* * *

It was two more orns before Cirrus began to uncurl from the floor, and though he was still shaky, he managed to stand and stumble to the back of his cell for energon. Physically more steady but emotionally just as shaky he made it to the bars and leaned against them.

Starscream and Torrent both moved as close as they could, reaching out and trilling quietly, low harmonics of grief, support, comfort. 

"I wonder if he's already been..." Cirrus said quietly, wings held low.

"Yes," Starscream told him, both grief and an effort to comfort in his tone. "It's over. They're with Primus now."

Cirrus sobbed once and hugged his legs, wings shaking for several silent kliks. When he regained control over himself again, he lifted his head and rested his helm against the bars, reaching through. "Thank you," he murmured. "For trying to protect my egg."

"I will again," Starscream replied, uncertain, almost uneasy at having done something worthy of being thanked for. "I wish it had worked."

"So do I," Cirrus whispered. They sat in silence for a few kliks, and then all three Seekers looked up at the sound of an explosion. 

Cirrus's wings flattened in alarm. "What was that?" 

The room shook again, the blasts coming from beyond the far wall. "Maybe someone found us?" Torrent said, but his voice was flat and clearly lacked faith in that idea.

"That, a battle, or construction," Starscream assessed. "I expect the last."

"Expanding," Cirrus said flatly. "Just going to grab more kin. More eggs for their _nobles._ " His voice hissed and his wings rattled.

"Probably," Starscream agreed with an agitated wing-rattle of his own. "They know no limit to their depravity."

"So many sparks," Torrent murmured, before they fell into silence. 

The noises continued during the day cycles, stopped during the night, and continued until and after Cirrus was put back into heat and began constructing again.

Eventually two guards came in just before the day cycle and roused a bleary Torrent from his berth with a gruff comment about moving to the washrack.

Starscream was alert immediately, and Cirrus was at the bars of his cell. 

"It isn't time for washing," Cirrus said. "Where are you taking him?"

They didn't answer as they got Torrent pulled to his pedes and all but dragged him out and out of the holding. 

"Hey, hey!" Starscream yelled. "Answer him!" But the door closed. 

Less than a klik later, a bang shook the room and they looked over to see machinery coming through the far wall in Torrent's cell.

Starscream immediately relaxed, his wings sinking in relief. It was enough to draw Cirrus's attention to him. "How is that good?"

"They moved him because of construction. Just needed a secure place to hold him until there are bars again," Starscream explained.

Cirrus looked back over, and through the settling debris, they began to see the shape of another cell. "Oh," he said, and pressed against the bars, wings lifting with _want_.

"Maybe what I said actually got results," Starscream hummed, filing that away. "They'll have that done in a shift, I expect. Maybe tonight you'll be able to touch."

Cirrus nodded, and for the rest of the orn stared with rapt attention as the wall was cleared away and bars installed, opening the holding area up for six cells, three on either side. The construction crew cleared out, the hall and cells were cleaned, and then Torrent was brought back in. 

He looked anxious and twitchy, thrown by the change in routine, and Cirrus pressed against the bars, trilling eagerly as Torrent was led back to his cell. It was enough to draw Torrent somewhat out of his agitated daze to trill back in greeting, and then he was locked in his cell next to Starscream. The door locking triggered him to focus on putting his space to rights again. One guard moved to open the door on the new cell next to Torrent while the other faced Cirrus.

"You're moving there." He pointed to the new cell.

Cirrus nodded and ran back to his berth to gather his collection of blankets and pillows and the toy under his berth, the only belongings that any of them had, and then back to the door. 

Torrent suddenly realized what was happening and he was at his bars, chirping and pacing. Cirrus was led out at gunpoint and moved into the new cell. He didn't even wait until the door was closed before he dropped everything in his arms and ran to the bars separating him from Torrent. Though the bars separated them, with both frames pressed against the bars there was little they could not touch. Hands reached through, stroking and feeling, forehelms pressed together. Cirrus was sobbing in relief, Torrent was repeating his designation over and over.

Starscream watched from his berth as the trinemates touched for the first time and hide a small, proud smile. He'd done this. His words. His understanding. His willingness to fight in a way the owner of this place understood and put it in terms he respected.

Now, what to tackle next?

He lounged in his nest, watching the two that he was starting to think of as trine. He now knew that was instinct, and unavoidable, but he was still glad to see them find some relief among the horrors. It was strange to think that something that would have been a horror on the outside was a solace in here. 

Torrent and Cirrus eventually sank down to the floor, still holding each other, having only separated for long enough to pull their nests close. As Cirrus drifted into recharge, Torrent looked over his shoulder at Starscream. "Thank you," he said.

Starscream shrugged dismissively. "Know how they think. No big deal."

Torrent flicked his wings in acceptance, having worked out some of Starscream's quirks as well, and settled in to recharge against the bars, pressed against his long-absent trinemate.

* * *

Starscream was curled up in his nest, the blanket walls as high as he could manage to make them, when he came up out of recharge to the sound of chirping from his eggs. They had roused and when Starscream felt the shifting inside, he realized why. 

_Fear-anxiety_ surged through him and he gave a low click, an instinctive call for help and kin. Almost immediately Torrent's chirr replied, calling Starscream to come close and be protected.

He crawled off his berth, dragging the padding and as much of the nest with him as he could over to the bars. He was running his plan over and over in his processors, searching obsessively for flaws. He settled back into the blankets and tried to push them back up into some kind of barrier. "Not ready," he said, embarrassed by how nervous he was. It was just egg-laying.

Torrent reached through the bars to stroke Starscream as best as he was able, his field with warm support and comfort from an elder Vision while Cirrus trilled and cooed from the far cell, offering comfort from a distance. "Do you want to hold them in or do it normally?"

"Normally," Starscream said firmly. His voice shook, but his field was steady. "I'll get us out," he whispered. "All of us, I swear."

"Up on your knees, shoulders down and elbows separate. Pretty much exactly what I didn't do," Torrent instructed firmly but gently, ignoring the claim. "How many?"

"Three," Starscream said as he moved into position. It was immediately calming as things shifted and resettled in ways that felt much more natural and easy. "How long?" he asked. He'd only seen the very last stages of both Torrent and Cirrus's separations.

Torrent's hands stroked between his wings, adding to the sense of calm. "It can take anywhere from a joor to an orn or more, though once the first one is free the rest will come within breems. I would expect closer to a few joors for you."

Starscream nodded, cycling his vents slowly and evenly, realizing a potentially fatal mistake. He'd drawn attention to his separation early, instead of holding back all sound and movement like the others had. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not normally. It's more unsettling than painful unless something goes wrong," Torrent reassured him as best he could.

Starscream nodded and lowered his helm to the ground, cycling in and out, focusing on his plan and his eggs. 

He would save them. He _had_ to save them. These were his creations, and once they were out he'd be able to fly. He'd fly them to safety, take them to his flock. It was the only thing he could think of. 

He was bringing them into an unsafe world, and he was their only protector.

Armor shifted more, beginning to expose the upper quadrant of the construction chamber. The eggs shifted inside him, the chirrs of excitement from their contents vibrating through his frame. Three eggs. He felt them shifting around, being positioned for the exit.

It was uncomfortable, but like Torrent had said, not painful. So everything would need to be an act. 

Just after the two-joor mark, he felt his armor part, almost like preparing for a spark merge, but in a transformation that pulled his chamber _back_ and opened far deeper. He took a deep, even vent, and screamed.

Next to him, Torrent panicked as much from the unexpected assault on his audials as how unexpected it was given Starscream's field. Separated from them, Cirrus began to chirr and chip anxiously, wanting to know what was going on.

"Starscream?" Torrent hissed quietly, wanting information about why the younger Seeker was screaming when his field said all was well.

Starscream reached through the bars for him, squeezing reassuringly and pulsing his field. He was calm. He hoped Torrent would understand when they were free that he couldn't warn them ahead of time. 

He jerked his wings up and down and arched his spine, shrieking in faked pain. The first egg slipped from his chest, landing on the padding, and Starscream's vents hitched as he looked down and saw the warm orange light. He forgot to scream for a long klik as he was entranced by the light, brought out of it only when he felt something move inside him.

Beyond the bars, in the safe zone, the medic and the duty guards were watching, uneasy and completely unwilling to go inside. Starscream couldn't blame them, not when even the most docile Seeker became a killing machine when their eggs were near, but he hoped his faked pain and damage would make them lose their caution.

He put on a show of thrashing as the next two eggs emerged, faking convulsions. He could hear Cirrus's alarm, teek Torrent's deep confusion and concern, but the most important thing, _the_ single most important thing, was convincing those watching that his frame was being torn apart. That they needed to get the eggs out quickly so they could offer care. 

The door opened behind and he curled around his eggs, _waiting_.

"Hurry up!" the medic hissed, and he heard the guards forget the lesson Starscream himself had given not so long ago and step forward.

He flew into action when he felt the first one touch him, whirling around to his feet and slashed across the first neck he could reach before lunging at the next one, digging for his chest and biting at his neck. 

_Thieves._

He heard the magnets turn on before he felt them, and the alarm blaring to summon the other guards, and instinctively knew he wouldn't manage to retrieve his eggs and escape before he was stuck to the floor.

He became trapped with the two other guards, but with the feverish need to _protect_ he started to drag himself towards the open door. If he could get out, if he could claw his way up to get the magnets off, he would be able to protect his eggs.

The medic was screaming, comming frantically, calling to the guards while he tried to work controls without looking at them. The grounder didn't dare take his optics off the Seeker somehow still coming towards him.

Starscream got one arm outside the main field and reached around to grab at the bars. The medic fled, the main door locking behind him. 

And then Torrent and Cirrus gave startled shouts as the entire holding area magnetized, slamming Starscream back to the ground. The door opened again and something slammed into his neck. Another klik passed and the magnets turned off, and one guard rushed forward to grab him and push him onto his front, kneeling on his wings. The medic went for the injured guards, and the last one went for the eggs.

Starscream could only screech, thrash and try to throw the guard off him, but the now-familiar drag of the drug made a difficult task all but impossible. He didn't stop trying, and was rewarded by the visual of Torrent pulling his eggs, nest and all, to the far side of the bars while clawing and hissing at the guard trying to get them.

The guard cursed as one of the swipes got him across his arm, then got a hand on one of the eggs and pulled it back, and the visual made Starscream heave with all of his strength. The grounder on top of him was knocked to the side and Starscream tried to get back to the _thief_ before he fell again, and this time, felt a stasis cuff going around his neck. It powered on, and his entire frame went rigid and still. 

A second egg was finally stolen, and then the third after Torrent was shot with sedative. Starscream saw the lights pulsing rapidly as they were carried away. He was hauled back into his cell, the collar removed, and he had enough time to swing his head around to see the door closing as the last of the grounders got out of the holding area.

Two were badly damaged, likely to never work here again, just like the one he'd partially maimed. It should have been a victory, but all he could process was that _his eggs were gone_ as he slammed into the bars again and again, trying to break through with a strength he never knew he had.

Just joors ago they had been safe inside him, singing to him and basking in his love for them. Warm and nestled, now they would be cold and alone. He could hear Cirrus shouting his designation but he didn't stop until he could no longer move, and collapsed next to the bars, sobbing. 

He'd never even held them, not even for a klik, never sung to them. In their short lives, they would never know the feeling of being safe and loved in a warm nest. 

They were _gone_.


	4. Mercy or Murder?

Starscream could tell both guards and sires were nervous around him. He didn't act or react like the Seekers they knew. He could see it in their looks. They didn't understand how to predict him and it scared them.

Instead of curling into a ball and grieving, he stalked his cage and spat detailed intent for how he was going to kill each one of them. Torrent and Cirrus understood, and they gave him comfort when he sought it deep in the night, but they saw his raging for the grief it was. He was young, fiery, volatile and violent for a Vision. For the longest time he'd thought himself an Order, but now he knew and could no longer deny what he was even to himself.

Starscream was a Vision, a nest-builder and carrier of eggs, the one who raised the next generation.

He was still Starscream, however. He was still fierce and aggressive, not at all like the Visions he knew.

Deep crimson optics narrowed when the sires -- a completely new pair -- came to a stop before his cell and looked at him.

"Hello," he purred sweetly. "Are you here to gift me more eggs?"

The pair glanced at each other and regarded Starscream more warily.

"Yes, it's time to start building more eggs," the larger one, a red, white and silver with heavy armor responded. "Drugs first. Behave and he won't shoot you."

"You're here with the precious cargo of life to bestow upon me. I would _never_ misbehave for that," Starscream said, optics wide with feigned shock. 

"Then just stand still," the sire lifted the syringe stick and aimed for Starscream's neck.

Starscream waited until it was almost at his neck, then ducked and grabbed the stick, pulling it into the cell and snapping it. Before the sires could get another, he rushed forward, using his thrusters, and reached through the bars to jab it in the smaller one's neck. Though it impacted, the pair was scrambling out of the way and the smaller one fired a large, long-needled dart into the thick energon line between Starscream's spark and main fuel pump.

" _What,_ " he snarled, looking down at his chest and pulling the dart out. He took a step back, and collapsed. He lay there, crumpled against the bars, until they brought a second stick and injected the heat-drug. A klik passed and though Starscream couldn't move, he could feel. He knew the molten _need_ boiling inside him and tried to fight when he was picked up and dropped on the berth on his back. His frame was having nothing of it, though. He had next to no motor control.

The sire climbed over him and rubbed a hand on his valve cover, insistent. Starscream hissed as the cover slid back and his hips lifted up into the false spike, pleasure and _want_ surging through him, frame pushing eagerly into the motion. His chest split and opened his spark up to them.

Then the one above him was against his spark.

He tried to focus on the memories of death and pain he'd forced upon the first sire, but this spark was stronger than the last one had been. In time, he shut down everything he could to stop the feeling of the heat, and fell offline as soon as his spark disengaged.

* * *

The second time Starscream felt the eggs releasing from his frame, he kept quiet. As much as he longed to call out for the other Seekers, the more experienced Visions, he resisted and curled in his nest, staying as still as possible. He had to shift a bit when his armor split, determined to keep them safe by not giving a single sign it was happening. It wasn't nearly as easy to get the four eggs out on his side, but he soon had them protected under his wing, concealed by his blanket nest and was almost silently humming to them to keep the chirping quiet.

He was aware of Torrent's gaze, and knew that Cirrus was online, but they were both being as silent as he was. If there were infrared cameras--and he was sure there were--he could only hope he'd protected the eggs well enough with his frame that they wouldn't be noticed on them. It would have been so much easier with just one or two. He'd stay out of direct view, he'd keep them hidden. 

It would become more difficult when it was time for his shower, but just like before his nest was up against the bars to Torrent's cage. He could transfer them to the other Seeker's care while he was gone. Part of him, the analytical part, knew it wouldn't work for long, but every klik was worth the effort and the coding dominating his awareness wasn't much on letting him think about it.

If he could just find the perfect moment to strike, he could take everyone down. The tank-former sire would be the most difficult, but the sedatives should work just as well on him as any other frame. The overcharged medic would be no problem, the other sire was small, and the four guards could be handled easily as soon as he found a place to bottleneck them. The walk to the washracks had a few opportunities.

He slipped his hand under the blanket to stroke his eggs. He wished he could look at them; their sparks were beautiful shades of yellows and oranges and he wanted to memorize those colors. Similar to his first clutch, but not identical. He found himself almost thinking their designations, daring, just for a moment, to hope, when the door opened and the lights came on. Starscream's spark started to pulse in rapid waves of panic. How could they know? They shouldn't be able to know!

He curled tighter.

Pain in his back. A sonic boom. Darkness.

When he regained awareness he knew he'd been drugged and his eggs were gone.

It didn't stop him from tearing his nest apart, searching frantically, until everything was strewn over the floor in his cell and he could see with his own optics that nothing was there. He looked to Torrent, unable to quell the last flicker of hope that maybe one had been saved. The green Seeker just shook his head.

He wailed and ran to his bars, shaking them and screaming curses and threats of torture and death to every single grounder on this forsaken planet.

No one responded.

Eventually he began to pace, just like last time. A caged predator seeking something, anything, to kill.

* * *

Starscream growled deep in his chassis when the sires approached, staying crouched on his berth with his wings raised in warning. They couldn't use the same tranquilizers now that they had to steal his eggs, or he wouldn't be online for the spark merge. If he stayed back here, he could try to deflect any others shot his way. On the berth, he couldn't be as easily trapped by the magnets. 

This time would be the smaller of the two new sires, and Cirrus had reported disliking him. He'd been harsher than any of the previous ones with the spark merge. That meant Starscream would have to be even more focused and cruelly creative in his depictions of slow death.

The larger of the pair -- Breaker -- had the stick, while the smaller one had the tranq gun.

"Now just hold still..." Breaker said, as Sinstaro flipped the magnets on. Starscream felt the downward pull to the floor and fought it as he dodged the stick. It jabbed forward again and he got his fingers around it, then snapped the tool. 

Sinstaro just shrugged, aimed, and fired. The shot hit him just above his cockpit and he snarled at the hazy wave that swept through his frame. They waited a klik before coming in, Breaker injecting him again with the heat-drug, Sinstaro waiting between his legs. Starscream kicked at him uselessly, and then felt one hand rubbing his cockpit and the other one on his valve cover. It didn't take long before his frame was humming and bared to the sires. 

A toy filled his valve and dragged a moan from him as he rocked into it, the pleasure building quickly before it was removed and the tightly packed, bright red spark slammed into his.

He slammed back with screams of agony, with the terror he imagined his sparklings had all felt, the sickening horror he still felt when he thought about what had been done in this place. Imagined grounders being torn limb from limb, wires being stripped and frayed and melted, being rusted to deactivation in a conscious and fueled frame. 

The reply was the last one he expected. Detailed, technical data on how to prepare Seeker eggs for a feast. The number used, how they were dispatched, why they were wanted, how they were decorated and doctored up so the nobles who demanded them could keep them down.

Starscream froze. The colors being offered in the images that accompanied the data were the colors of _his_ eggs, the soft lights he'd never forget. ~No--~ He pushed back, more images of death and terror, but the grounder didn't seem bothered. Instead, he began remembering a bright, vivid scene, an expansive table with a large crystal bowl in the center. Eggs were piled in it, four of them, and there was a decorative vat of simmering oil next to it. Seasonings were resting in a small caddy, and suddenly the memory was populated, and a delicate white frame was pointing at one of the eggs. Pale light shone from it-- _sparklight_ \--and Starscream realized with a sickening lurch that they were still alive.

The server picked up the selected egg and placed it into a mesh net, lowering it slowly into the oil as if in care not to hurt the contents. But Starscream knew that such oil would kill the seekerling still inside, and do it _slowly_ , overheating it. He could hear them keen in distress, chirping for protection that wasn't there.

His spark shattered, he wailed as the high-pitched noises grew frantic in their distress and pain and confusion. 

Then silence. Then the egg being pierced and broken open, its contents delicately flavored, and a small wing-nub was known to be the highest-valued piece, consumed with the care of only the finest of delicacies. 

And then the red spark filled the memory with the _taste_ and Starscream knew he'd retched, even if he couldn't fully feel his frame. There was a rush of disgust through the spark merge, then savage glee as the details continued, more eggs, more flavors and more of Starscream's creations lost.

He clawed for a way out of the merge, but the red spark had gained full control of the pace and held back on his own overload while he fed images and sounds forward, memories of his own experiences at such a table, and imagined scenes from other preparation methods he'd learned about. All of them, every single one, involved keeping the eggs alive until preparation. They were kept in dark boxes, away from any contact. No one to touch them, soothe them, sing to them, warm them. 

Torrent alone had lost more than 400 eggs. There were more facilities than this one, and it had been going on for more than two centuries, at minimum. 

Thousands upon thousands of eggs, the population of Vos's central city, all of them knowing only a short, lonely, and agonizing life. Saturated by the horror, Starscream felt himself slipping into a kind of empty awareness. Very, very distantly he was aware that his processors were working furiously, but it was not anything he cared about anymore.

By the time the merge ended his spark was shrunken and quivering with grief. The grounders left him and he rolled, slipping off his berth and landing hard on his front, face pressed into the floor as he screamed and screamed. His tanks were empty but they kept trying to purge and he could hear Torrent and Cirrus both calling for him. The idea of slashing his claws through his own neck occurred briefly, but it would only mean another of his kin subjected to this horror. It would mean abandoning his trine. He couldn't do that. _Wouldn't_ do that.

When he was too exhausted to scream, he sobbed, and when he was too exhausted to sob, he curled on the floor, shaking and listening to the trills and chirps from the other two. Torrent was coaxing him to come over so he could have _touch_ , and eventually, he dragged himself to the bars and collapsed. The older Vision had grabbed one of his blankets and started wiping off the purged energon from his face and cockpit. "What happened?" he asked in a low, worried voice.

"He's been there, eaten an egg, watched how they are killed, forced me to _taste_ wingnub," Starscream choked out, knowing there were no words to express all that had happened.

Torrent froze, completely silent, and Cirrus wailed in shock and grief. 

"H-how are they killed?" Torrent finally asked, voice shaking, field shrunken in fear. He didn't want to know. But he _had_ to know.

"Most are boiled alive, in oil," Starscream gasped out, saying it enough to create a fresh surge of despair and nausea as his frame attempted to empty takes already empty. "Others--others--sliced--some are dissolved and turned into drinks--" His frame convulsed and Cirrus was sobbing, Torrent's field was pale and sickened, and then he scrambled away to purge his tanks near the outer bars.

"How ... how could _anything_ be so cruel?" Torrent shuddered as he crawled back to Starscream, hugging him tightly through the bars.

Starscream moaned and shook his head. He could hear Cirrus's muffled keens of grief from where the third had curled up and buried in his nest, and once he felt in control of himself, nudged Torrent with his field. "Go," he murmured. "I need to recharge."

Torrent was both reluctant and grateful, and scurried over to Cirrus after brushing Starscream's wing in thanks.

* * *

When the clutch of one was ready, Starscream hid his movements again, even knowing they wouldn't be enough to conceal the egg. He had very different plans this time, something he hoped not even these monsters could anticipate. More than once Starscream recalled being accused of having broken code, of not being a real Seeker despite his frame and well-established lineage. He realized that in the next breem he was going to prove it.

He'd never be able to go home after this. He could never allow another Seeker to touch his spark and know what he'd done. He wondered if even those here would be able to understand.

As the egg emerged, its rich reddish-orange spark pulsing, he cradled it in his arm and kissed the shell, and trilled in answer to the sparklight. When it was settled and beating steadily, he curled a hand around the egg and slid one claw in deep, directly into that light. All the while he hummed and pulsed love to the being that had only known him to be safety.

The light brightened for a moment and against his hand, Starscream could feel the tiny field shift from _contentment-love_ to _confusion-pain_ and then nothing. He heard Torrent's horrified gasp, but as he held the dark shell in his hands, energon leaking from the single wound, he knew that his seekerling had escaped a far worse fate, and that the tiny spark would now fly forever with its kin.

Cirrus gave a short, quickly-stifled cry from where he was watching when he realized what had happened, but fell silent after. It was only a few kliks before the lights came on and all fours guards and the medic came in. Given Starscream's reputation of creativity and savagery, it wasn't a surprise.

He pressed a single kiss to the cooling shell, then rose up to his pedes and walked over to the bars, handing it calmly out, the wound and the energon coming from it clearly visible.

"What did you do?" one of the guarded demanded, dumbfounded by what he was looking at. Heavily encrypted comms chatter exploded all around.

"I'm giving my egg to you," Starscream said, sounding confused. "I thought that's what you wanted." 

"It's damaged," one guard replied.

"Dead. They're useless dead," another spoke, relaying from Swindle. "That will not be tolerated."

"But I just did some of the work for you," Starscream said, and held the egg through the bars. "Now you won't have the torture and murder of an innocent spark on your unsullied consciences."

"It's dead, so it'll stay in there," the lead guard announced after a moment. "You killed it, you live with it."

Starscream shrugged at them. "Suits me," he said, and returned to his nest and started the process of cleaning off the lubricant from the laying from his front. Once the guards were done, Torrent came close and brushed his field against Starscream's, trying to teek and understand.

Starscream leaned against the bars and shuddered. "You didn't hear," he whispered in 'cant, the only language the grounders wouldn't be able to understand. "They were so afraid, in so much pain ... now he'll never have to know that."

"But ... how could you do it?" Torrent struggled to understand. "Even ... I understand why, but...."

Starscream shook his head and shuttered his optics. "I thought about what I was saving him from. I didn't have a choice. Didn't want--" He hissed, wings shaking in a silent sob as he tried to push everything back. "Didn't want him to be alone. Can't take him from me now."

There was a long silence in stillness, then Torrent reached through the bars to stroke Starscream's back in comfort. "He'll fly forever now, free of pain, weakness and loss. I don't know if I'm that strong."

"I can be, if you want," Starscream murmured, running his fingers over his egg. He wanted to nestle it back into the blankets--wasn't safe to be out in the open like this--it might get cold--before he forced himself to look away. It was dead. He wouldn't be one of those Seekers that went crazy nesting for dead eggs. "I'm going to take the spark chamber out," he announced, so the other two would know what he was doing.

"I ... I will think about it," Torrent whispered, both horrified and relieved by the idea. "Maybe they'll let us go if they can't get eggs anymore," he suggested, perking up some while he watched in morbid fascination while Starscream carefully dissected the damaged egg and the chest of the half-developed seekerling inside to retrieve the tiny chamber that his claw had pierced earlier.

"They wouldn't," Starscream flatly. "They would kill us." 

"I wouldn't mind that," Cirrus murmured. 

"Still free," Torrent added. "Just please, promise me, if they won't give me a clean death, you do it. I don't want to go like Flightplan."

"I will," Starscream said, reaching through the bars to squeeze Torrent's hand. He hid the shaking in his wings at the thought of taking another life--a fully formed, adult life that he'd talked to, touched, grown to love. "I'll make it quick." 

"Thank you," Torrent said, relief flowing through him into deep gratitude. He looked at the tiny yellow chamber in Starscream's hand. "What will you do with..." 

Starscream shrugged. There was a hole in it, the shattered pieces too tiny to extract still in the egg. "Keep as many as I can," he said, and then slipped it into his subspace. The egg was fully torn apart and Starscream fought against the sickened convulsions the act created in his tanks. It needed to be destroyed so none of them would fixate on it. Once done, he pushed it into the far corner of his cell and crawled into his nest, shutting down. 

* * *

Starscream was roused in the middle of the night by a silent touch to his wing. Cirrus was nearing his laying and they had started recharging near their bars so they could awaken each other silently. They'd made sure to start patterns of night movements that could be mimicked, so as to not alert the guards to the laying right away. Torrent had tried and failed to kill his last clutch of two eggs, but Cirrus was determined, and he wanted his trine aware to help him if they could. 

Starscream sat up and stretched, then paced twice around his cell as was his habit, before settling against the bars to watch. Cirrus was laying as still as possible, and looked like he was having trouble with the constricting position. Torrent was next to him again, squeezing his hand through the bars. 

Three more cycles of movement and pacing, a joor past midnight, and Cirrus felt it was the right time to give them the most time to deal with the eggs mercifully before guards showed up. It was a clutch of two, both large, and he trembled in his nest as he tried to bring himself to pierce their tiny spark chambers.

Torrent hovered to his side, emitting a low, uneasy chirr, and Starscream watched with rapt focus. The sparks were nearly identical in hue, a mellow aqua color much like their carrier's. When Cirrus's claws slipped away and he stroked one, and then the other, Starscream knew he wasn't going to be able to do it. He hissed, a short, urgent sound meant to draw their attention. They were running out of time. 

Torrent made a hurried grab for the pair and scrambled to press them into Starscream's hands. The green Seeker knew he couldn't do it, but he could deliver them.

Cirrus's wail was barely noticed as he flared his field with as much love as he felt for any of his own eggs, then pierced one, and then the other, just as the lights came on. A moment later there was a harmonic keening from three Seekers, a brief farewell to the lost sparks, and cursing from the guards as they glared death at Starscream.

Starscream ignored them as he passed the dead eggs back to Torrent, who then handed them to Cirrus, who pulled them both close and curled over them protectively. Then Starscream looked at the guards, who were having a hissed argument that felt like it was partially over comms. "He gave them to me to kill, he gets to live with them?" he asked perfectly mildly.

"No," one of the guards eventually stated and stalked over to Cirrus's cage to jab him savagely with a syringe stick.

Cirrus barely reacted besides the wince, and trilled to his eggs until his frame slumped and they rolled out of his arms. One of the guards went in to snatch them up and Cirrus made no move to resist. He lay with unfocused, pale optics as the guards left and the lights turned back off, dazed and grieving. 

"S ... spark..." he finally slurred. He wanted the chambers. 

"I'm sorry," Torrent whispered. "There wasn't time." 

Starscream chirped, drawing his attention around. He held his arm through the bars, offering something out. 

Torrent went to take it, then his wings hiked up in shock when he realized what it was. "But this is yours," he protested. 

"It's all of ours," Starscream said. "Cirrus needs it now. It's all of them, for all of them." 

Torrent nodded and crossed back over, and gave the tiny spark chamber to the grieving carrier. Cirrus could only sob, his vocalizations oscillating between wails of grief, garbled songs of warm farewell and the occasional half-language chirps and trills of gratitude to his trinemates.

In this, this mutilation of their culture and a Vision's purpose, Starscream began to feel strong again. Not because he had to be, but for what he provided to his trine. It felt strange, and a little disconcerting, but in this moment he felt at peace with himself in a way he'd never expected to find.

And in a place such as this least of all. 

His and Torrent's songs rose up to join with Cirrus, and they grieved together through the night. 

* * *

Starscream paced, staring hate at the guard on duty with a syringe stick, both of them watching Torrent struggle not to deliver his single egg. Unlike the others, Starscream's will was no more broken after six clutches than when he'd first woken here. The main difference was that he was sharing his tricks and aggression with his trinemates for the deterrent of their captors. In the time since he'd killed his first egg he'd managed to get all but one of them before the guards stopped it. This new plan of theirs looked to be a tough one.

In addition to the guard standing ready with the strong sedative, when Torrent had been given his last time in the washrack, they'd build a barrier blocking off all but one front corner of the back far cell. Torrent wasn't just isolated from those who could take his eggs if he couldn't do the damage, but also enclosed in a space not that much larger than his nest. He could lay down along the length of the bars, but not along the length of the cell. There was nowhere to hide from that blasted syringe.

The egg was starting to force its way out of Torrent's chest and the Vision cried out in pain as his frame was stretched and twisted in the forceful transformations. The top of the shell cleared and the guard came forward with the syringe, only to have his partner grab his arm and stop him, hissing a reminder about waiting as long as possible. Starscream growled in his chest, a low, almost purring sound, waiting, pacing, and then when he saw at least half of the egg started to chirp to Torrent. 

The carrier, despite his pain and panting, grabbed the egg and rolled it as forcefully as he could manage from the cage before he was sedated. The second guard lunged for the awkwardly rolling object that was on perfect trajectory for Starscream. Everyone in the room knew that if the red and white Seeker got it, it would be destroyed like all the earlier ones.

For a moment, Starscream thought he would have it, arms stretched through the bars and reaching, but the guard got his pede in front of it at the very last moment, stopping it. He gave a satisfied huff and stood with his prize as Starscream lunged to his pedes and shrieked at him, screaming curses and threats if he didn't hand it over, all while clawing at the air as he tried to reach the egg.

The guards, in possession of the first egg to leave the facility intact in over two vorns, ignored the raging, keening Seekers and turned the lights off after they left. The shrieking stopped quickly. 

"I'm so sorry. I tried," Starscream trilled at Torrent, promising the grieving Seeker that it wasn't his fault.

"I don't want to do it anymore," Torrent sobbed, slumped over and holding his arm through the bars. Cirrus reached back silently, wings heavy with grief. "They should at least get to be held before--before--"

"I know," Starscream promised, his wings shaking with pain. "I'll honor your choices. I only offer ... I never meant to demand."

"You didn't," Torrent choked. "If it were easy, I would want--but not like this. I _threw_ him. The last thing he ever felt of me was being thrown away." 

Starscream and Cirrus both cooed and trilled, offering what comfort they could from the distance.

"You were trying to save him," Starscream insisted. "He knew your field. He knew you loved him. He'll know you were trying to save him."

Before Torrent could respond, Cirrus began a low, deep hum of comfort for the grieving. Starscream quickly joined in, trying to sooth Torrent into recharge before he hurt even more.

In the early hours of the morning, the doors to the laying cell and Torrent's regular one both opened without warning. The Seekers roused and Torrent gave a nervous chirp before gathering up his meager nest and walking back to his cell. The door locked behind him and he stood in the middle, trembling, before dropping everything and rushing to Cirrus to be held, stroked and comforted. Unable to join them, Starscream watched from his cell, trilling with them. 

* * *

Starscream groaned as he came on-line to the concerned, then relieved chirrs and chips of the other two. He knew he was waking up from heavy sedation, and his frame _ached_ in all sorts of new ways, mostly around his chest and abdominals. His first thought was confusion, and then panic--was something wrong with his eggs?--and then alarm when he reached for his middle and felt only the strange hollowness that came after laying. 

Only he hadn't released his eggs. 

But they were gone, no question. _Fury_ slammed through him as he staggered upright, looking down at the fresh welding on his front. "What happened?" he snarled to Torrent and Cirrus, knowing that they would understand his anger wasn't directed at them.

"They drugged you while you recharged, took you away for nearly two orns. They brought you back a few joors ago," Torrent explained such as he could. "I think the medic extracted your eggs early."

Starscream shook, optics bleaching out with rage as he looked around with claws out for something, _anything_ to destroy in place of the mecha he really wanted to get hold of. His gaze fell on his berth and he grabbed the single pillow on it, slicing easily through the soft mesh cover and digging into the dense foam within, tearing at it until it was completely ruined.

Once that was gone, his anger turned towards everything else in his cell, first the pillows near the bars, and then the padding on his berth, and then his blankets, all of them torn to shreds as he snarled and screeched and cursed the entire race of grounders in the most vile language he knew, both Vosian and Imperial, and more sub-dialects beyond. Torrent and Cirrus had retreated into the back corner together, holding hands through the bars as they watched their trinemate's explosive rage and temper in full form.

When Starscream looked around and could find nothing else to destroy, he shrieked in frustration and took to clawing at the bars and walls, the berth frame that was anchored to the floor, until not one span of his cell was untouched. Even the floors showed damage, and by the end, he was shaking with exhaustion and had no fewer claw and scuff marks on himself.

A guard with the tranq gun and the medic were watching him carefully from the far side of the hallways separating the two sets of cells. The guard wasn't primed to fire, but he was ready if the order came.

Instead, as he looked around for the next thing to _destroy_ that he could reach, Starscream's gaze fell, and then his frame followed, leaving him in the middle of his cell as he curled and sobbed. The designations of every single creation--the designations he'd sworn never to think of--were torn from his vocalizer and he cried for every single one of them and the pain they'd known. Cried for their loss, the losses of thousands more, cried for his trine and their pain. Cried for their helplessness. 

The grounders had taken away their flight, and then their creations, and then their mercy. They had nothing left.

It broke Starscream in a way he hadn't known was possible and he curled his frame into a tighter ball and sobbed until he felt as empty and hallow in his spark as he did in his frame.

The anger was gone, the resistance, the determination. All of it gone, replaced with the same _nothingness_ he saw in the optics of Torrent and Cirrus. 

Broken.


	5. Preparing to Strike

Optimus answered the summons from his Special Operations team with a heavy feeling in his spark. He knew they had been planning a raid, but the lack of visibility seemed to suggest that it wasn't the big break they'd been looking for. Things had been getting tenser with Vos officials, who were asking after several disappearances over the last decade. He desperately hoped that a raid produced at least one designation he could give them answers for. His efforts so far, largely in the background, had done little to stop the mecha-nappings. He simply couldn't provide security to independent flying beings who didn't trust their protectors.

He was a bit surprised to see Prowl at the table with Whiplash and Jazz, and hoped that meant that they were nearly ready for a major strike against the horrific institution.

"Whiplash, Prowl, Jazz," he greeted them in order of rank and sat down in the larger than average chair that was obviously brought in for his comfort. The table was also at his height, and he knew that meant all three of the others were sitting on chairs with platform bases so they were able to sit roughly level with him. "What news is there for me?"

"First, we made contact with one of our deep covers," Whiplash said. "He thinks he's hit one of the biggest suppliers, pile of scrap called Swindle. We know him, but he's never been on our radar before." 

"Problem is, his security is impeccable," Jazz said. "Employees are put into stasis before being brought to the sites, kept out for long enough that they could be anywhere on the planet. Brought out the same way. And they stay underground for a vorn or longer. Usually longer." 

"Pit of a mess to track," Whiplash said. "But we're sure he's the big time we've been looking for."

"How close are you to being able to shut him down?" Optimus focused on what he truly cared about.

"By my calculations, roughly three vorns," Prowl offered. "Agents have succeeded in planting a passive location recorder inside Swindle and the equipment so it will regularly send its data to us. We are now waiting to ensure we know where all his facilities are before staging a raid on all at once."

Optimus x-vented slowly. Three vorns. Three vorns, and how many innocent lives taken in that time. "How can you be sure he's the main producer?" 

"He's turned it into a science," Whiplash said. "They have some kind of heat cycle that he's learned to induce. More reliable. We've seen it used by others, but never with this kind of result."

"There is also the fact that according to multiple sources, he sells eggs vorns in advance of when they are produced. If he is not the single most important producer, he is the most important one we have any clue about," Prowl added. "We have also a reasonably accurate estimate of how many eggs are killed in a vorn, and we know that Swindle traces back to a third of them. The remaining are from a variety of dealers that are not as reliable, ranging from the small breeder operation that was busted three orns ago to the hunters that go to the moon to acquire the eggs. I am certain we have traced the origin of 89% of the eggs consumed last vorn and 81% of those the vorn before. Though the sweep to take down Swindle's operation will not be the end of it, the remaining dealers will hopefully be much simpler to deal with."

Optimus nodded. "Were there any survivors this time?" he asked.

"No," Whiplash shook his helm. "Six Seekers were shot before we could reach them. We took out the staff and owners."

Optimus sighed. "Again. Do you have any designations?"

"A few, possibly," Jazz said. 

"I still caution you against direct communication with Vos, no matter how well intended," Prowl said.

Optimus rubbed his temple. "Has there been any good news, such as a drop in demand now that it's been spread that the Prime does not approve?"

"A small one, but it's always been a niche market," Whiplash said. "Other than the ones directly looking to what you favor, interest will stay steady no matter what the supply is."

"Better than nothing," Optimus sighed. "It is good you are making some progress," he forced himself to brighten. "On other subjects, try to be available to meet the final members of my advisers. Ratchet has finally agreed, and Ironhide will arrive on Cybertron two decaorns after that."

"Yes, Prime," Whiplash said, while Jazz held his fingers up to his helm in a casual salute. Prowl canted his doorwings in respect and understanding.


	6. A Broken Star

Starscream was curled against his wall behind his berth, plugged into the flight simulator that had been activated in his cell in only the last vorn. His behavior had mellowed noticeably, to the point that even his captors had noticed, and now he spent a lot of time plugged in here, longing for the sky. It was more painful reminder than relief, but it was better than nothing. It took his active thought-threads off what was happening to his frame, the hopeless reality of his life, what he really was now.

 _Breeder._

_Broken._

_Bereft._

_Grounded._

His wings shook and he heard a soft trill from behind. His trinemates kept a close optic on him and he knew they would be there when he was able to focus outward again, but that was not now. 

Now he needed to grieve and long and repeat the designations of every lost creation as he tried to make himself believe he was flying.

He tried to remember their colors and their warmth instead of imagining how they must have perished. It was hard to do, hard to wish that he hadn't been there with them. He wished he could have been the one to suffer every single fate, and spared his creations. 

He'd never even wanted creations, not really. It was all but assumed that he would have them eventually, by everyone _but_ him, but he'd been more interested in study and exploration than in this forsaken planet or the moon Vos called home.

Optics narrowed to dangerous red slits. _This planet._

Claws unsheathed as he panted, holding back impotent rage and just as overwhelming despair. His internal temperature was close to redlining, but he was oblivious to it, locked in his emotional core with its conflicting demands.

_Can't do it again_

_Grief_

_Hate_

_End the pain_

_Escape_

It all came to a crashing halt along with his processor when his higher processors reminded him that he couldn't leave his trine and he couldn't stop them from taking anyone's eggs anymore.

Starscream was ... useless.

He couldn't protect the ones he loved. He couldn't _hurt_ the ones hurting them. 

Nothing. 

The only power he had was over his own life, and he didn't even really have that, not really. He couldn't leave his trine. He was sure that Swindle housed his Seekers in threes on purpose; he would have realized it made for more stable production. 

_Production._

Like they were _stock._

The grounders thought of them as sub-mecha, when _they_ were the species with artificial sparks, created from a box.

Another surge of _rage-hate-helplessness_ tumbled through him, causing his spark to flare and throb painfully. He didn't know what to do. Nothing he thought of had worked for long and he knew, though they never spoke of it, that Torrent and Cirrus were short on remaining vorns. If Torrent saw the end of the next decade it would surprise even the most jaded part of Starscream's processors. Cirrus wouldn't last many vorns past that. His clutches were getting smaller, he was weaker now than when Starscream had arrived. Cirrus was growing more and more listless and unwilling to engage with even Torrent. They were closer to each other than to Starscream, which Starscream understood and accepted, without resentment.

After Torrent deactivated, Cirrus would follow.

Then Starscream would be alone.

And then he could end it for himself. He knew that Swindle wouldn't risk exposing any other of his kin to his rebellion or ideas. After Torrent and Cirrus were gone, he would be alone. Forever.

On a level Starscream rebelled against it mattering. He would survive. It was what he did.

On another level, he was looking forward to tearing his own chamber out.

That was another thought that stopped him cold.

Would he really do it?

 _Could_ he? 

He'd never thought about his own deactivation before. Not in practical terms. How he'd go, what it would feel like, what came after. 

His spark quivered. He loved _life_. 

...No, that wasn't right. 

...Had. 

_Had_ loved life. 

Now the idea of joining with his creations, all those perfect sparks, was an inviting one. An end to this horror. 

With an unconscious twitch of one wing he understood where his trinemates had been when he arrived, where they still were. Should he ... could he really suggest they all end it together? To end this torment on their terms, their timing? To claim a tiny measure of control from their captors.

The more he thought about it, the more enticing the idea became. A last moment of independence and choice, a last foil to their captors. They'd be left with empty cells, and no eggs. 

And then those cells would be filled with three new kin. 

Starscream slumped. He couldn't do it. 

He _could_ stay alive, though. As long as he was alive, no others would be brought into this facility. He was sure of that much. As long as he produced well, they wouldn't get rid of him either.

Though he could at least give his trinemates an early out. At least if Torrent could manage to extinguish Cirrus. If not, well, Starscream would just have to arrange for cells to be changed so he was next to the dusky blue Seeker when the time came.

Or something like that.

It was getting harder to think. How long had it been since he'd refueled?

He reached up for the plug into the flight simulator, pawing at the wall until it released. Almost immediately he felt the rush of _hunger_ and heard the alarmed calls from Torrent and Cirrus. He tried to get up and turn around to tell them he was all right and ended up falling on his face instead. What should have hurt didn't, but only dropped him into a welcome darkness where there was no thought.

* * *

Ten vorns. 

Ten vorns locked underground. Nineteen clutches, forty-nine eggs. All stolen, or, a lucky few, killed. 

They still didn't allow Starscream to lay his eggs unsupervised, but his milder behavior had prompted them to stop taking them out surgically a few vorns ago. Now they just watched him and treated him with the same routine as the others. Starscream guessed that the artificially-released eggs weren't worth as much, or maybe it cost too much. 

Either way, the surgeries had stopped, and now he paced around the small strip of space available in the separation cell. It was just wide enough to pace in, but not really long enough to go more than a few steps. All while chirring with the discomfort of the releasing process, unwilling for his eggs to come out. He felt the guards' gazes on him, and felt the weight of the tranq guns in their hands. No matter how much he'd broken, they all knew he'd fight not just to keep his eggs, but for the moment it took to kill them. With three inside him, he was likely to be able to save one from its fate. He knew the designation of that seekerling, the first egg that would emerge. It was the one he might be able to save. The second had a much lower chance of mercy. The third, no real chance at all.

And since he _always_ seemed to have three or four eggs--the exceptions had been the clutches sired by Sinstaro, and he hadn't stayed long--there were always a few eggs taken alive. 

Two live naturally released eggs were apparently worth more than four live artificially released ones.

He groaned and faced the barrier at a particularly painful release, leaning against it. Remaining upright was hampering the joors-long sequence, and he knew he would be forced to his knees soon.

The part of him that wasn't driven by deep coding wondered why he bothered to resist once he knew, without doubt, that he couldn't win. He caused himself pain, lost things he valued and generally had a less agreeable existence than he could have had. He supposed it was a lingering desire to resist. He couldn't help it. He would never give in, not fully. He no longer fought like he once had--tired, broken, exhausted, hurting--but he would never be tamde. 

If his chance ever came, he would kill again. 

The rest of the time, he did what they wanted. 

He groaned and doubled over, and then dropped to his knees and crawled to his nest. He tried to shield the emerging eggs as much as he could with his wings, but with the guards an arm's length away, there wasn't much protection. He had the hand further from the guards under his chest, ready to catch the egg and end its short life for its own good. That hurt too, as did the swift kick to his other shoulder that disrupted his aim and made the egg roll from the nest. He'd have gone after it if he could, but with the next egg already coming out, all he could do was watch as the second guard grabbed it.

They were actually daring to reach into his cage with him fully aware now. At least when they knew he couldn't move. The laying process locked their frames up, restricted their movement and even their processors to an extent. He swiped at the next hand, felt his claws catch metal, before he had to catch his egg. 

He managed to pierce the surface of this one before it was stolen. A small crack wouldn't kill it, as long as they got it patched and kept it warm. But it still might extinguish before a more cruel fate was met, depending on whether they knew how to care for a damaged egg. Strange to have come to the place where a slow deactivation alone was the preferable one.

The third egg he managed to drive his entire set of four claws into before it was knocked away. It wasn't the clean kill of his early ones, this more crushing than piercing, but it was fast. He heard the guard curse and not bother to retrieve it, and then, with the fourth egg almost completely out he felt the sting of a syringe and wasn't coordinated enough to even try and catch it.

It was lifted out of reach and he shrieked, clawing through the bars as best he could, chest still open and dripping lubricant. The magnets were switched on and another syringe went into his neck, a stronger dose, and everything went black.

* * *

Starscream watched from his nest as the grounders bred Torrent. The older Vision was taking longer to respond to the heat, frame worn out from so many cycles. But they'd managed to engage the proper response with an extra boost of the cocktail and now the sire was locked in a spark merge. 

Cirrus chirred meaningless comfort from where he was pressed against the bars, waiting for the merge to end. They all knew Torrent would be gone within the vorn. First hand and passed down knowledge all said that once these measures were needed the end was very near. It was a time of celebration of sorts, at least for some. It meant the end of their imprisonment.

The grounder shuddered with his overload and drew back as his armor folded inward to protect his spark once more.

He paused, held his hand to Torrent's middle, then gave an annoyed huff as he stood. 

"No good?" his partner asked. 

"No good, it didn't take," the grounder said. They filled out their log together, signed, and left. 

Torrent rolled off his berth and crawled to Cirrus, who pulled him close and held him. "I think I'm done." 

"Isn't the first time it's taken you a few tries," Cirrus said sadly.

"It is the first time the second hasn't taken, and the first time they'd needed the extra shot just to get me going," Torrent countered with a flicker of relief and another of regret in his field. "You know Star will get them to move one of you so you can touch."

Cirrus shook his head with a soft whine. "Maybe you'll take on the next one," he said. 

"Maybe," Torrent couldn't make himself end Cirrus's hope, no matter how unlikely it was. "If I don't--"

"You _will._ " 

" _When_ I don't," Torrent said firmly, stroking Cirrus's helm. He looked over his shoulder at Starscream. "They'll have to leave for the poison. I don't want to end like that."

Starscream flicked his wings in promise to _trine_. "Just come in reach. I'll make it quick."

Torrent nodded, shuddered, then pressed his helm back to Cirrus's. "When it happens, even if it isn't this time, don't grieve," he whispered. "I'll be with them."

"I'll grieve losing you, but I won't grieve for you," Cirrus gave the best compromise he could as he pressed into the limited contact they were allowed. "I could never not grieve losing you."

Torrent nodded, and slipped into recharge against the bars and Cirrus while Starscream watched, paced and tried not to think about what was coming. He'd given his word and he'd keep it, but he wasn't all that sure how he'd manage after taking the spark of a trinemate.

And then he realized he didn't care how he managed. 

Not anymore. 

* * *

The sire with the cocktail came for a third time and injected Torrent twice, coaxed him to heat with the false spike, and then stroked a finger down the center of his chest. 

It was entirely unnecessary. Torrent's chamber was already spiraled open by the time he finished. He knew the procedure and even without the cocktail he wouldn't have resisted it. Trinemates and the second sire both watched as the merge went smoothly, though the Seekers were far more agitated than usual. Not that the sires noticed or cared.

With the merge over, the sire shook his helm and got on his pedes. The pair left without a word, barely bothering to close the door, and not bothering to lock it.

Cirrus let out a long, low keen. Torrent sat up and went to him, pulling him into a kiss through the bars. "I love you," he whispered. 

"I'll be there soon," Cirrus said. 

"I know," Torrent said, then wrenched himself away and went to Starscream.

"Spark's fastest," Starscream said as soon as Torrent turned towards him. "Most certain too."

Torrent nodded and x-vented. "I'm glad I met you," he said. 

Starscream didn't really know how to respond to that. He wished he hadn't, but only because that meant he'd still be free. "I'm glad I can give you this," he managed instead of the full truth as his claws slid out, waiting for their target to appear.

Torrent nodded and now that the moment was upon them, he was hesitating. Another cycle of his vents, and then his wings settled. "Take care of Cirrus," he said, and exposed his chamber. 

"Always," Starscream promised and struck so fast that the chamber was in his hand before he'd finished hearing the glyph he'd spoken. The pale, weak light was still pulsing inside the crystal chamber, its field a mixture of shock, panic and relief as its frame began to gray and crumbled to the ground. Cirrus's keen was raw and pain-filled, but it was Starscream who felt every nanoklik as Torrent's spark guttered and faded.

The last sensation across their fields was one Starscream didn't even realize how badly he needed: joy.

Torrent was free, and the very last thing he felt wasn't even relief, but _joy_.

Starscream sank down to his knees and pressed his free hand to his mouth, stifling the sob. He canted his wings to reflect what he'd felt in that moment for Cirrus to see, before the magnets in both his cell and Torrent's slammed him down. 

"What did you do!" the guard roared.

His vocalizer could only spit static for a moment before he managed to reboot it. "I saved him from a joor of agony from that poison. I did what he begged me to do. I dare you to tell me he wasn't about to be _murdered!_ "

"Frag this," the other guard rumbled, as they began bitching and moaning about how much work this was going to create. Starscream tuned them out, smiling, keeping his gaze on Cirrus, who sobbed, and smiled, and canted his wings in gratitude over and over.

* * *

It had taken all of a single shower cycle for Cirrus to be moved into Torrent's former cell, though Starscream was under no illusions that his promise of forcing it had anything to do with the move. He didn't really care either. All that mattered was that his trinemate was in the cell next to him and they could touch.

Cirrus had been against the bars in moments, reaching for him. Starscream greeted him with quiet chirrs, trying to hide how overwhelming the moment was, even though he knew Cirrus could teek it easily. "Just us now," he whispered finally when he was in more control of himself. 

"It will just be you soon," Cirrus murmured. "Even if I wanted to last, I don't have many vorns left. Not compared to you."

"I'm going to last as long as I can," Starscream said. "They won't risk exposing new _stock_ to me and my ways. I can take up the space of three."

"Or they'll kill you to fill all the cages. Even with as large as your clutches are, three new captures will give more," Cirrus said, then slumped. "I shouldn't think of that. It does no good to think of the future."

"At the very least, they'll wait until they've caught two more," Starscream said with a purr, petting him. "We're hard to catch. We'll get harder. My disappearance would have been noted by now, so would have yours, and Torrent's, and all the others. The Winglord will be looking for the lost. The more they take, the riskier it will get."

"But they've been doing this for so long, longer than you've been alive. Longer than _I've_ been alive," Cirrus sighed. "Flightplan told me designations and lengths of stays. Torrent hated to speak of the past, but Flightplan believed that we had to remember who was here, so that one orn their flocks would have answers." Cirrus shuddered. "You need to learn that list, remember it and somehow teach it to those who will be here next."

"I will find a way," Starscream promised, holding Cirrus's hand tightly. "Even if I have to carve it into the walls, I will pass on their designations." 

Cirrus nodded and began to recite in a soft voice. As the list grew and grew, Starscream's spark began to pale with horror. Scores of designations, each one representing scores of lives lost, and some of them hundreds. Starscream listened to every single one, until Cirrus finished with a quiet, "...and Torrent, one hundred and three vorns." 

Starscream nodded. "I will remember," he said. 

Cirrus sighed and leaned against him and they sat in silence for a while. 

"I don't even know how old you are," Starscream murmured after a while. 

"Four and a half thousand, give or take a century," Cirrus answered. "You?"

Starscream's wings flicked in surprise, then he barked a laugh. "I'm five hundred and nineteen," he said, suddenly looking at the other Vision in a much different light. 

"Barely in your adult frame then," the dusky blue Seeker murmured. "What brought you to Cybertron?"

Starscream sighed, but it was fond as he remembered his flock. "I wanted to prove I could be independent," he said. "I wanted to see Iacon, live in a different world. I _was_ going to be the first Seeker admitted to their university. The fools just didn't know it yet."

"Not a very traditional one then," Cirrus managed a small smile. "You've got the fire of an Action, the will of an Order and the wits of a Vision. No wonder you didn't want to stay. Not many trines could handle you."

"Fragging right," Starscream said. "Which is just how I like it. Liked it." He paused. "Did you have a trine?"

"Yes," Cirrus sighed, wings quivering with loss. "All three of us were here sight-seeing. A trip to celebrate the trining of our last single creation. We were drinking in the hotel bar and ... I woke up here. I don't know what happened to Airfoil and Landing, but given what I've seen, I expect they were murdered to keep questions about my disappearance to a minimum."

"I'm ... so sorry," Starscream murmured after a few moments. "I ... the trine bond must have broken not long after that? If you believed them deactivated."

"It did. The only thing that kept me alive was that I was already egg-heavy," Cirrus sobbed into a keen. "Even knowing it was a grounder's spawn ... I couldn't. I wanted to, so badly, but I'm not strong like you are. I couldn't. Still can't. I'm just not that brave."

"That's okay, it's okay," Starscream soothed. "I'm here now. I can be brave for you. Whenever it happens, I can make it as fast as Torrent."

Cirrus nodded, his field and wings flicking in gratitude as he continued to grieve for his lost trine, creations, life. Long kliks passed before he could speak again, with a whispered, "Thank you."

Starscream nodded, holding him. "Tell me about your flock?" he asked. "And your creations, the ones you had with your trine?"

Cirrus gave him the bravest smile he could manage and nodded. 


	7. An Unlucky Break

"You _what?_ " Jazz's jaw dropped as he stared at the Praxian tactician incredulously over the final plans of the planet-wide assault to take down nineteen of Swindle's facilities in a single action timed to the nanoklik so no facility could warn another, or Swindle, of what was happening.

"I would lead the strike in Kaon," Prowl repeated calmly.

Whiplash snorted. "Why?" he asked. "You're not a warrior."

Prowl's doorwings jacked up slightly in visible taking of insult. "I am a Praxian Enforcer."

"But not a trained Ops agent," Whiplash said, more to the point, and was privately pleased that the Praxian immediately settled down at a description that was, possibly, more accurate. "I'm not putting you in charge of a strike. _I_ didn't train you."

"Your agents have a track record that would have any _Praxian_ unit under review and held out of all active operations. I want _at least one_ strike to come away with survivors to get intel from. That means I'm there to fix whatever is going wrong in real time." Prowl leveled ice blue optics on Whiplash. "Something unusual is going on in Kaon. Staff changes out too quickly. Deaths. He visits and communicates with it more than any other. I intend to know why."

"Which is why Jazz is leading it," Whiplash said, gesturing to his SIC and ignoring the insult. "He's faster and more innovative than others. Now that we know that a primary goal is to cull the stock, we'll be more prepared to stop them." 

"'Lash, let 'im try," Jazz said. "I'll still be there. It's not like anything can go wrong."

Whiplash gave his SIC a long, wary look, then shrugged. "All right. You can lead the Kaon team. Jazz is next in charge."

Prowl flicked his doorwings in acceptance and looked at Jazz. "So, are you actually going to have them follow my orders?"

Jazz gave a thoughtful hum and leaned back in his chair, regarding the Praxian. "Yeah, why not," he finally said. "It'll be cute." He grinned. "You would be too if you'd lighten up."

"That is reason enough not to," Prowl shrugged. "I find no value in being cute. You might actually have some value if you took your duties seriously, but I am aware that does not matter to you. It will, however, be interesting to see how you cope with actual expectations for competence in the field."

Jazz snorted. "My competence isn't being questioned here."

"In that, you are wrong," Prowl told him. "Even if you do not care about my assessment of you, I very much question your competence." He turned to Whiplash, pointedly dismissing Jazz from the conversation. "When will the strikes begin?"

"In four orns, from the top joor," Whiplash said. "The team leaders and specialists meeting begins at zero six in the morning, then link up with local agents afterwards."

"I will be ready," Prowl responded with a tiny flick of his doorwings in understanding.

"Even if you're commanding, I want Jazz on code breaking. Swindle's no amateur when it comes to his security," Whiplash tested how much control Prowl was going to try for, and just where the lines of trust were.

"Agreed," Prowl didn't contest Jazz's skill, much to Whiplash's relief.

"One problem. He's gonna stick out like tank among two-wheelers," Jazz said, looking at Whiplash and ignoring Prowl much as he had been. "How do we sneak a Praxian into Kaon without alarming someone? Especially the Praxian who works for the Prime."

"A valid concern," Whiplash said, then paused as Prowl shrugged and brought up an image of a mecha they both recognized as him, but with red optics, dark gray, black and green paint and no doorwings. "How long does that take?"

"With a partner, less than a joor," Prowl said simply.

"Fine, be ready by zero six," Jazz said.

* * *

Prowl, Jazz, three local Imperial Ops agents and an Ops-trained medical specialist from Iacon walked up to the storefront that advertised as a mass storage facility. They knew the entrance was inside, and from the blueprints, they were pretty sure they knew where. 

"Cute," Jazz said, tapping the half-off sale sign plastered on the windows.

Prowl, his doorwings once more on display but his colors still dark and optics rich red, ignored the comment and gave the Imperial Ops hand signal to move in according to plan. Jazz would find the entrance and break the lock while the others kept watch and dealt with anyone they found. In the early joors of the morning, still long before dawn, six shadows moved, and Jazz had to admit that Prowl lived up to his designation at least. He was all stiff and by-the-book on base, but now he was watching a fluid, highly trained predator in action.

He was kinda sexy like this.

It was too bad Jazz knew what he was like the rest of the time, or he'd almost be turned on. 

The lock on the front door was laughably easy, and Jazz guessed that was on purpose. It was a cheap, standard industry lock that wouldn't be used to protect anything secure. The others walked in after him as he went for the back room, finding another standard lock, but that was where the simple appearances ended.

The next lock was as impressive as the one Jazz kept on his personal quarters, a place secured as much to keep the world safe from him when he was jacked up from a mission as to protect him from any number of very skilled mecha who might try to drop in unwelcome on a given orn and do harm.

It was nearly a groon, and more than a few looks from Prowl before Jazz made a satisfied sound and it opened.

"Like ta see _you_ do it faster," Jazz said with a smirk as they slipped through behind the other pair of agents.

Prowl gave a flick of his near doorwing and flick of his fingers saying that he could in under two kliks, making Jazz roll his optics. Then he was all business again, acid pellet gun in hand and doorwings wide as they slipped through the darkened facility.

Jazz shrugged as he followed behind, absolutely silent, one agent in front and three behind. They made their way into what looked like a storage area, massive doors with locks leading all the way down the hall. 

Prowl signaled to the door that their underground agent had indicated and Jazz moved over to it. A few more signals readied the others. Once this door was opened, their presence would be noticed. 

Right before getting the door opened, Jazz signaled over his shoulder, then released the final mechanism and pushed forward.

Alarms sounded in moments, and right to plan the six split up. Prowl, Jazz and Recoil bolted to the right while Morta and Soundlock went left and Illota found a spot where he could snipe anyone coming down as backup. Each had a primary function in the strike. Prowl was to protect the Seekers from anyone trying to eliminate them. Jazz was to ensure that records were not lost and deal with the duty guard. Recoil to deal with the off duty guard and secure the armory. Morta was to take down the non-com personnel and secure the pharmacy, then join Prowl with the Seekers. Soundlock was to ensure no news of this left the facility.

They had reports of most of the primary locations--the informant had never seen the inside of the pharmacy or private quarters--but the on-duty guards would be easy to find. 

And also the hardest to take down. 

Jazz was silver death as he burst into the room and threw the first bomb to disrupt their equipment, and then launched at the nearest guard as he stood to face him. Even knowing someone had entered, the pair was not ready to face The Prime's Assassin. Jazz had been crafted, built, programmed, trained and reveled in his function as the arbiter of death for three Primes already.

Primes came and went. The Senate came and would go. Special Operations ruled forever.

The room was silent but for Jazz's slightly manic giggle of delight before the pair even knew what had hit him. He was on the console, hardlining with it to download his compilation of anti-self-destruct and anti-erasure viruses before darting out again to help somewhere else.

A quick glance in the rooms he passed showed his agents fully in control, and so he headed down towards the holding cells, where he half expected to find a dead Praxian, because Recoil had signaled only one guard taken down, which left one unaccounted for. Thankfully, Prowl had insisted on going for the cells, which, despite what the Prime said, was the least essential function. 

He got around the corner, and realized very quickly his help would not be needed.

The Praxian had actually stopped a blaster bolt from connecting with its target with an acid pellet shot, and while the red and white Seeker hissed and spat curses in an impressive array of dialects from his back corner, Prowl tackled the guard and had him face down and in stasis cuffs fast enough it was genuinely impressive.

It seemed as if his service record hadn't been made to look good, he actually had some practical skills in the field.

He glanced over at the Seeker who was still cursing, and realized that it was holding its shoulder and bleeding heavily. A glance down the holding and he saw another gray frame slouched in the back right corner. "This one's hurt, I'll get Morta," he told Prowl.

The Praxian flicked his doorwings in acknowledgement and moved to confirm deactivation on the gray one. It was a given, but it was procedure for both their functions.

Prowl returned to the front of the cage with the surviving Seeker. "What is your designation?" he asked in good, though distinctly accented Vosian.

The Seeker's wings lifted up in momentary surprise before another snarled string of curses.

With a flick of almost amusement of his doorwings, a move that he was sure the Seeker understood, he dropped to a crouch to bring their optics roughly even. "I'm here to get you out of that cell and back in the sky," he continued in Vosian.

"If you _touch_ my eggs I will kill you," the Seeker hissed. "I will tear your useless wings from your disgusting grounder frame."

"I want you to raise the contents of your eggs to be strong, healthy Seekers," Prowl stated calmly. "I have no wish to touch them, or you, other than to tend to your damage and see you safely out of here."

Jazz and Morta arrived right as the Seeker withdrew his claws and nodded once. Jazz went to unlock the door and when it opened, Morta stepped forward. The Seeker immediately began to snarl again. 

Prowl stepped to intercept Morta with a calm hand. "I have the training to deal with this level of damage. He's agreed to allow me to tend him, not anyone."

"Yes, sir," Morta said, stepping back. Jazz crossed his arms and frowned, wiling to watch, but signaled for Morta to be prepared to aid. 

The Seeker calmed again, but watched Prowl warily with a low, steady warning growl that any sudden or unexpected moves would be met with violence. Despite that, and the claws they'd all seen, Prowl unsubspaced his medical kit and walked into the cell calmly.

"My designation is Prowl. What should I call you?" he asked as he knelt, even move carefully telegraphed and slow.

A beat of silence, and then, "Torrent. My designation is Torrent." The Seeker hissed as Prowl touched the wound, but it wasn't violent. 

::What do we do with it?:: Morta commed to Jazz as he watched the Enforcer work.

Jazz frowned as he flopped down to sit on the disabled guard. ::We wait until Whiplash gets here to oversee transport. We can't let it get free. I don't care what the Praxian says.::

::I didn't hear him promise to set the Seeker free. Just to get it safely out of here,:: Morta hummed. ::Maybe he's smarter than he looks.::

"Well, Torrent, you really should get this seen by a real doctor, but it will stop bleeding and sparking in a moment," Prowl chatted away, not really concerned about getting a response. He was simply talking while he worked to distract his patient. "Do your creations have designations yet?"

"No," the Seeker said quickly, immediately. "No designations."

"I'm sorry this took us so long. Swindle is not an easy mecha to track," Prowl continued to chat. "Will you consider testifying against Swindle?"

The Seeker shook his head sharply and looked away, a clear refusal to talk to him. 

"Where'd you learn to speak that?" Jazz asked in Imperial as Prowl worked, his efforts producing a visible lack of bleeding and sparking.

"I downloaded the language packet and a visit to Vos some vorns ago provided the experience," Prowl answered in Imperial.

It earned him a glance from the Seeker, but nothing else. 

Jazz cocked his head. "Not that many get to Vos," he said lightly. "How'd you manage that?" 

"Security for a political envoy," Prowl shrugged his doorwings.

Jazz hummed, well aware that Prowl had no such mission in his record, not even the secure one that Ops got. It made the mech far more interesting than he should have been. "Sounds like a boring as slag way to see a forbidden city, mech. My sympathies."

Prowl shrugged his doorwings. "Try not to move the joint until it's been fully repaired," he said quietly in Vosian and stood to step back. "Ready to be out of here?"

The Seeker regarded him warily and with a suspicious cant to his wings, but nodded and stood. "To where?" he asked in Vosian.

"Initially to Iacon, where you will be fully repaired and checked to ensure there are no transmitters or trackers present that should not be," Prowl answered smoothly. "After that, I believe it is dependent on what you request and the Prime."

"I will go to Vos and nowhere else," the Seeker snarled at him.

"That is not currently an option. You must be repaired and checked for devices before you leave our custody," Prowl countered calmly.

"So it's from one prison to another," the Seeker said, switching to Imperial. "How do you plan to stop me?"

"At the moment, stasis," Prowl shrugged.

"Stasis will kill my eggs," the Seeker hissed at him, wings lifting in warning. 

"No it won't," Jazz said calmly. "Got reports that Seekers were put into stasis all the time without adversely affecting the eggs." 

"We're trying to help you," Morta added.

The Seeker hissed again and paced back and forth, regarding Prowl and the open exit to his cell. "I want to see Cirrus," he said. 

Prowl canted his doorwings and motioned to the door. "He's in the same cell he was in. He was gray when I arrived."

The Seeker looked like he was expecting a trap as he paused for a beat, looking at the unimpeded path, and then rushed through the door and over to the other cell. They hadn't unlocked that one, and he fell down to his knees, reaching through for the other flier. His optics latched onto the gray color for a moment, then he looked down at the distended plating.

Undamaged.

The egg was less than an orn from separating.

"Open it!" the Seeker screeched with something like panic as he grabbed at the door and tried to pull it open.

Jazz glanced at Prowl and waited for his nod before going over and hacking the lock. The Seeker rushed in, and somewhat to the grounders' shock, began to tear at the frame of his kin, starting at the wound that had killed him and moving downward. He pulled out chunks of cabling and gears, getting deeper into the frame until he was able to wrench open the center, exposing the smooth surface of a living egg.

A keen of relief rose and white wings trembled as the flier clutched the egg to his chest and began to sing softly to it.

"That I did not anticipate," Prowl murmured, his doorwings twitching in distress at the realization that his ignorance would have left the new being inside its creator to extinguish.

"It didn't die," Jazz murmured, equally astonished. "I thought it couldn't survive, not after..." He gestured to the gray frame of its carrier. 

"They must become self-sustaining at some point," Morta mused, before jumping to a comm that included Prowl and Jazz. ::I've never seen a live one before.::

::I have,:: Jazz said grimly, watching the scene. The light from the egg had been pulsing rapidly in rhythm waves easily recognizable as panic and alarm, but they were smoothing out as the Seeker holding it continued to sing. ::Use great caution around it now. They are easily excitable and very aggressive when in close proximity to the eggs, their own or not.:: 

::Understood,:: Prowl replied. ::Is he likely to be a danger to our prisoner?::

Jazz glanced down at the standard-sized frame he was straddling. ::Naaah,:: he said. ::I wouldn't want ta maim the mecha responsible for the rape, torture, egg-napping, and murdering of my kin for who knows how long. Hey Illota, come get this pile a'parts and put it somewhere safe, would ya?::

::Affirmative,:: Illota responded. 

The Seeker was still cooing and rocking, holding the single egg in his arms with a combination of absolute care and desperate need to keep close to it, when Illota came in, and when he left. He never even looked up. 

::How long before the team will have the facility completely cleared, cleaned and packed up to go?:: Prowl asked Jazz.

::That one makes it more complicated,:: Jazz said, nodding towards the Seeker. ::We'll have this all wrapped up in an orn or so, we just need ta hear from 'Lash before we can leave, which depends on how the rest of the ops went. See if he still wants ta oversee transport. Gettin' back to Iacon...:: He shook his helm. ::Tricky. Stasis might be the best choice.::

::I intend for stasis. It will save all of us, including our rescue, a great deal of stress. However, with the egg he rescued, I expect it would be best to have him in stasis for as little time as possible. His eggs may survive the stasis, but none of us knows what kind of care the other requires,:: Prowl explained. ::Did you get anything from the system that clued you in on where they store the energon for the Seekers?::

::I haven't looked at it yet,:: Jazz said. ::They're still takin' it apart.:: 

::I did,:: Morta said. ::It's labeled and measured out in their pharmacy. Doses, instructions. You'd think it was a damn weapons manufacturing plant with as precise as their storage is. Nothing so easy as a how-to guide, though. Just labels, logbooks for energon taken, sizes.::

::Then Morta, see if you can work out which entry is for our survivor and mix up a cube for him. If there's a sedative that won't throw the taste or color off, give your best estimate to make him groggy enough to put into stasis safely,:: Prowl instructed. ::They might also have a stun weapon of some kind for controlling them to take the eggs. See if that can be found. I'd rather not use it, but it's better than being mauled.::

::Yes, sir,:: Morta said, slipping away. 

Jazz waited a beat, still watching Starscream. ::So,:: he said. ::Good op.::

Prowl gave him a startled look and twitch of doorwings that was all Jazz needed to know that Prowl did not agree with him.

::That explains _so_ much,:: Prowl replied after a beat, his attention never wavering from the big unknown in the unlocked cage.

::What is _that_ supposed to mean?:: Jazz asked with a frown.

::If this was a good op by your standards and it went badly by mine, it explains a great deal about why the others went so badly to me,:: Prowl shrugged. ::Different standards.::

::How would you define a good op, then?:: Jazz asked.

::All goals accomplished, no casualties, no lost covers,:: Prowl spelled it out.

::That all happened by _my_ standards,:: Jazz said, daring Prowl to correct him.

::That,:: Prowl motioned to the gray Seeker, his tone incredulous, ::Is all goals accomplished?::

Jazz hummed. ::Lemme ask you a question,:: he said. ::Do you serve the Prime, or do you serve Cybertron?::

That was enough to pull Prowl's attention away from Starscream for a brief moment as he scowled at Jazz with tense doorwings. ::There is no difference,:: he insisted with a very rote, party-line tone whether it was believed or not.

Jazz regarded him, trying to decide if the Praxian really meant those words, and more than ready to believe that he did. He was the exact kind of mindless drone type who would see no difference. But he was interesting. He had promise. ::Think about it,:: he said with a small smile. ::I'd love ta hear your thoughts on it after ya've put it through that processor a'yours.::

::Your effort at entrapment for treason has failed,:: Prowl said blandly as he closed the line.

Jazz's visor brightened in surprise, then his mouth curled into a thoughtful smile as he settled in to wait until Morta returned with several cubes of energon, a few joors later. "So the boss is up front, wants to talk to you," he murmured, leaning in.

Jazz nodded once and jumped up to his pedes, leaving. 

::This one is for your friend here,:: Morta said, handing Prowl a cube to his right hand. ::And this is for you.:: The other went into his left. ::We're going to sedate and transfer in about a joor.::

::Understood. How long will the sedative need to take effect, and how much is safe for me to consume?:: Prowl asked as he set the cube for the Seeker down and broke the seal on the other, taking a sip and running the results through every detector he had in case it wasn't simply energon.

::It should start to work within ten kliks,:: Morta said. ::You shouldn't drink more than a few sips. Seeker frames are high energy consumers, faster processing. He needs more than you do to go out.::

::Understood.:: Prowl promised as they settled in to wait until it was time to deal with the Seeker again. "Torrent," Prowl's tone was carefully neutral as he took a step forward. "We found the energon stores. There's a cube for you."

The Seeker turned far enough to look at him past his shoulder vent, grip staying tight around the egg and wings spread out, reading every move that Prowl made. "You drink some," he said.

Without even hesitating Prowl swallowed a good-sized mouthful, then offered it.

The Seeker waited almost a klik, then held his hand out, accepted, and downed the entire cube hungrily before curling back around the egg. Prowl waited, and then a few kliks later, heard a low growl. 

"You drugged me," the Seeker hissed, and Prowl scrambled back so Morta could lock him inside.

"It seemed prudent, given your unwillingness to cooperate," Prowl apologized, groggy himself. "This is better than having to fight you down to put you in stasis for the move."

"This egg ... had better ... be in my arms ... when I boot," the flier managed as he began to sink forward. "Or I will kill ... every grounder I see."

"It will be," Prowl promised, even knowing full well it wasn't a promise that was in his power to keep. He waited another klik, then nodded to Morta to open the door and walked in to put the still slightly conscious Seeker into stasis.

* * *

Optimus sat and watched his Special Operations team, noting that Prowl was absent from the meeting. He would track the Praxian down later to ask him for his impression of the events. "What news?" he asked. 

Whiplash and Jazz glanced at each other, mirror images in matte black and silver. 

"Well, either it went well, _or_ we have a problem," Whiplash said. 

"Or both," Jazz said. 

Optimus simply raised an optic ridge. 

"We recovered a Seeker, live," Whiplash explained, then shrugged. "Usually the first thing they go for is liquidating the stock." 

"It's being held in induced stasis," Jazz continued. "It has already proven itself willing to threaten with violence, and I believe is perfectly capable of backing it up. No proof, but I'm fairly sure the one we have is the one responsible for the unusually high number of injuries and fatalities at that facility." 

"Do you have his designation?" Optimus asked with a flicker of excitement. Finally, a survivor. "What condition is he in?"

"Egg-heavy," Jazz said. "Medic says its frame seems stressed but stable. Surprisingly few injuries." 

"Designation's Torrent," Whiplash said. "Not on any of the lists we have. He called the other one Cirrus, and we do have a report of him going missing, after visiting for a leisure trip with his trine, who also disappeared." 

"And we have a live egg," Jazz said. "Torrent ripped it out of Cirrus's deactivated frame. We're keeping them together for now." 

Optimus nodded. "Do we know how many Torrent is carrying or when they might come out?"

"We _think_ we can read four separate spark frequencies, including Torrent's, but it's hard to tell," Whiplash said. "We're aren't willing to risk more invasive or possibly damaging procedures. And our best guess is two to four metacycles." 

Another nod. "I expect Torrent can tell us, once he trusts us not to harm him or the eggs. What is your assessment of his state of processor?"

"Violent from fear and trauma, but if you put an egg in sight, it's the only thing it'll think about," Jazz said. 

" _He_ , Jazz," Optimus said with a low rumble when the silver minibot didn't take his hint. "They are mecha. So as long as he has the egg and no one tries to take it, he's unlikely to be violent," he hummed thoughtfully. "I will speak to him when Ratchet agrees he is stable enough to be brought out of stasis."

"Yes Prime," Jazz said quickly. "Habit. Think like these creeps long enough and it wears off." 

"Where should we keep him for now, Ops cells?" Whiplash asked, redirecting their Prime's attention. "It would be the safest place for you to talk to him." 

"No. No more cells. Never again," Optimus shook his helm. "He has committed no crime."

"But..." Jazz focused, only to be silenced by a raised hand.

"You will have to be content with securing a suite _with views of the sky_ for him. I accept that he cannot roam freely. It will be the least like the prison it must currently be as possible," Optimus insisted.

" _Yours_ are the most secure," Whiplash said. "But we can keep him in stasis until new ones have been constructed. That would be faster than securing existing suites, in all likelihood." 

"And the time to secure part of my suite for his use?" Optimus asked, perfectly happy with that idea. "It is not as if I will ever need all of those sub-suites."

"Um..." The Ops agents glanced at each other. "Prime, I would recommend against it. Should you make a false move and agitate him..." 

"I will have to be sure I don't, then," Optimus said. "The time to secure part of my suite for his use, please." 

Whiplash huffed. "Three orns."

"Then begin," Optimus nodded. "You may select the suite to use and add what security features you deem necessary, so long as they are not fatal. Additionally, I would like him to have access to the majority of the space, should he feel the need to roam. _At minimum_ he will have access to washracks suitable for his size, a library, a living space that is not his berthroom, and personal storage. My own comfort is not to be taken into account, though you may fortify my berthroom door if you'd like."

"Yes, Prime," Whiplash said and they both stood, tipped their helms in respect, and left to begin the work.


	8. Waking in Iacon

As soon as he felt awareness, Starscream began to fight. Not content to wait, he clawed for full consciousness and control of his frame, long before he knew he actually had it. His frame was unresponsive and heavy, his vocal systems felt strangely muted.

~Calm down. I know you can hear me.~ The voice was inside his processors.

~Who are you?~ Starscream hissed.

~My designation is Ratchet. I'm bringing you online, but this process will go much smoother for both of us if you don't fight. Your eggs are safe. Your friend's egg is safe and in your arm. I know you can't feel it. I haven't finished bringing your frame online, or most of your sensory systems. Do not fight me.~

~Stay out of my processors!~

The sense of a patient sigh. ~I'm not _in_ your processors. I'm only talking to you over hardline. I have not gone beyond the highest firewall, I have only monitored your physical state.~

~Where am I?~ Starscream tried for a different track.

~You are in the Prime's Residence, where a portion of its chambers have been converted for your use for the duration of your stay,~ the grounder told him.

~The Prime?~ Starscream was too stunned to be anything other than incredulous.

~Yes. It was under his direction that the breeding programs became a primary target. He is quite interested in the health of you and your eggs, including after they hatch,~ Ratchet said. ~There, you should begin to feel the egg in your right arm.~

Starscream had felt it before the medic finished speaking, the warmth and weight of the new life, vibrating ever so slightly. A relieved and joyful keen rose up in his muted vocal systems. The field was there. It wasn't strong, but he could feel it. This little one would have undoubtedly been one of Cirrus's final eggs, if not the last. ~I want to be returned to Vos. Immediately.~

~That is not an option yet,~ Ratchet said reluctantly, just how little he liked that choice clear in the connection. ~This is political now and will remain so until we are on better terms with Vos.~

~You're holding me prisoner,~ Starscream hissed. ~You are holding my _creations_ prisoner. I will not keep quiet of this once I reach Vos, _grounder._ And you can tell that to your Prime.~

~I will,~ Ratchet sighed, resigned and unhappy about it. ~I'd much rather you reached a point where you could go home, and soon.~

~I will make you wish it even more the longer I am forced to remain here,~ Starscream vowed.

~I rather doubt _I'll_ be the one regretting it,~ Ratchet chuckled. ~I'm just the medic. It's the Prime and his two pit spawn enforcers you have to convince to let you go. Making their lives difficult won't accomplish that, but I'd love to see you try to put the Ops in their place for once.~

Starscream's irritation with the situation in general flickered and he made a resolution to let the Prime and his pets know just how unjust this situation was. He'd lived through torment and his would-be rescuers sought only to cage him again. ~When can I move?~ he asked.

~It should be another half klik and your frame will be fully online,~ Ratchet answered as more and more systems came online and reported fully functional. ~What do you need to care for the eggs?~

 _Warmth-safety-nest-protect-heat-trine-flock_ surged through Starscream's processors, less a thought than an instinctive _knowing_ , and desire. ~I _need_ for grounders to stop trying to eat them,~ he snarled, the only thing he really _knew._ The rest was cravings. Cravings to keep his eggs warm and safe and sheltered.

~No _one_ will even _touch_ them without your permission,~ Ratchet snarled right back, his full rage and protective fury showing clearly and at least a match for Starscream's, even though Ratchet didn't even understand what eggs were in full. ~Warmth I can do. Protection I can do. Nest is probably on you, but just ask for what you need for it. Trine and flock ... those I can't help with, whatever they are.~

~No, you can't.~ Starscream's visual systems came online and he reset them once, twice, before looking up at the mostly-white grounder. His vocal systems followed a moment later, as he sought for visual confirmation of Cirrus's egg.

It was there, just like he'd felt. The same pale green color, the same delicate shell. He stared at it, and felt strangely surreal. He'd never really _looked_ at one before, not like this. He'd stared with longing, focus more directed on keeping one safe, he'd searched with precision and deadly intent for the center of the light and the spark chamber, he'd buried them in blankets, watched them from afar, but he'd never just stopped and _looked_ at one. Even holding it in the cell, he'd been so overwhelmed and exhausted, torn between grief and joy. 

Now, he looked. In the bright, natural light, the shell was incandescent and shimmering. The surface wasn't completely smooth, but faintly textured. The dark shape inside was the forming hatchling, its spark visible in the very center. When he moved, the colors all shifted. 

The medic unplugged from him but went largely unnoticed as he moved away. "There's racer-grade fuel on the berthside table. It's high energy. We're still working on replicating what you need in full."

Starscream just nodded absently, sitting up and lifting the egg into a cradle in his arms, stroking the surface. The sunlight reflected back and he could see faint movement inside as the seekerling shifted in answer to the attention.

Sunlight.

A few moments later, the significance of that hit Starscream and his helm shot up, finding the window, and the bright sky beyond it.

_Sky._

He was on his pedes so fast that the medic barked a reprimand at him that he didn't hear as he plastered himself against the glass and stared out.

"You need anything, there's a comm wired through the desk that'll reach me," Ratchet said. "All you've got for now, yours are disabled. If you get together a list of whatever you need for a nest, I'll do my best to get it."

Starscream gave an absent twitch of acknowledgement with his wings, but every sense and synapse that wasn't directed at protecting the egg in his arms was locked on the outside, the sun and sky, as his frame began to quiver with _want_.

He dimly heard the medic's promise that they'd get him outside as soon as was possible before the grounder finally left, leaving him alone with the egg. He sank to the ground, huddled in the corner next to the ceiling-to-floor window, and tried to _think._

His processor didn't want to cooperate with him, too set on basking in the light and the warmth of the egg.

That was fine. He didn't need to think right now. Thinking would lead to remembering which would then lead to either screaming or sobbing and he didn't want to do either one of those right now. Right now, he wanted to exist in the dazed awareness that he had survived, and that while he still wasn't free, he would never, ever have to give up one of his eggs again.

Thinking, raging, and grieving could come later.

* * *

With darkness came recharge, the blankets and pillows of the berth pulled over at some point Starscream couldn't recall and made into a makeshift nest much like every previous one, but so much softer, warmer and more padded. The egg in his arms felt safe, content and warm. The eggs inside him hummed to him, happy that their carrier was finally relaxed, warm and not stressed. He hummed, sang and simply embraced them all through the night in a light but better recharge than he'd had in too many vorns to count.

Dawn crept up on him with light, then warmth.

He reluctantly uncurled, took a klik to look out the window, another several to look at the egg in his arms, and then forced himself to tear his attention away from both to look around the room he was in. 

The medic had had him on the large berth centered on the far wall, which was apparently where he'd pulled everything for his nest from. He eyed the berth padding, and decided that would be good to use later. Further looking showed a desk, a vid screen set in the wall across from the berth, an energon dispensing station, a circular table with chairs for three, and three more overstuffed lounges. All good material. This room would make a fine inner nest. 

But he needed to know what was beyond it, if anything.

The egg carefully wrapped in a soft blanket and secured in his arms, he moved towards one of the two doors, picking the one by the berth near the outside wall. It opened as he approached it to display a room nearly as large as the berthroom, but polished and gleaming in a different way. Even without knowing what half the objects were, he recognized a large shower and remembered that deep basins in the floor were often oil pools in the finer eyries he'd been in.

It was a private washrack.

He stopped, stared, unable for a moment to completely comprehend the sheer size and luxury of the room. Something was strange and deeply unsettling about it. 

Then it clicked. This washrack was bigger than the cell block he'd lived in for sixteen vorns. 

Emotion surged-- _grief-loss-fear-anger-stress-helpless-broken_ \--and he quickly backed away from it and closed the door. Too much. 

He'd deal with that when he had to. For now, better to look to see how far his prison went.

The other door led to an outer room, one that seemed to be for gatherings of a small flock, or a couple trines. It was full of plush furnishings, though most seemed to be for grounders. A large square table occupied one side, the other was dominated by a vid screen seating area, while the center of the room was a grouping of four chairs. There was a door somewhat across from him, and a second along the wall with the berthroom, but on the opposite side as the washrack.

If that room had been too big, this one was three times the size, and the ceilings! It was vaulted and a solid three times his height. The Seekerlings could actually practice flying in here.

If he hadn't escaped by then. He scowled at the confines, longed for a real eyrie, and crept to the closest door. It opened for him, showing what looked like an office area. Empty shelves and a clear desk suggested that it wasn't in use by anyone, but there looked like a decent selection of items to read, more tables and chairs--Primus, did no grounder need space on the top of his back to sit?--and classic Cybertronian art on the walls. He looked at it in silence for a few moments before backing out. 

The next door led to a hallway, and to his left it simply continued on, more doors spaced out along it on either side. To his right looked like a more open area and he went that way instead.

He stopped at the entry of a giant room, a place even shuttles could easily inhabit, but it was just an entry room, a place that connected many related rooms. More chairs, some lounges, most seemingly meant for a mecha larger than Starscream, but not as large as a shuttle. Half a score of archways lead away, but two sets commanded the room's entire attention. Identical sets of grand double doors, the kind that didn't slide into walls but were pushed, mirrored each other on opposite sides of the golden-trimmed foyer. They were the only ones in this place that were closed. Through the archways, he caught glimpses of art, rooms of luxury, a huge pool of molten stone.

He could easily imagine hundreds living here, and from what he knew of past Primes, was sure they had. The current Prime, from all reports, was more grounded and practical. He was the first Prime to peacefully attempt to open up direct lines of negotiation with the moons. His only successes, as far as Starscream knew, had been with the Shuttles, and most on Vos were unaware of the attempts, but it didn't change the fact that he'd tried. 

He went to the double doors on the right and tried pushing against them, and found that they wouldn't open to him. He tried both for good measure, and then lost interest and walked to the other pair. Through the open doorways on either side, he caught more glimpses of art, luxury, berths, stages and screens.

He reached the second set and pressed cautiously, and then with a little more strength when they moved to his touch. He swung one open inward and looked inside at what could only be the Prime's private quarters. He could see the sitting and living room, much like the one outside his room, but even larger. A smaller set of double doors were opposite where he was standing and wide open. A berth large enough for a flock to recharge on was centered in the berthroom and his optics locked on the fine blankets and material there.

His processors were working rapidly, tallying up everything he'd seen, all the tables and chairs that could be dragged, the bedding that could be used to create a soft nest. 

He took one step forward, then another, and crept into the berthroom. It appeared to be empty, with arched windows lined in precious metals letting in the sunlight. These quarters also had a washrack and a library, both grander than his own, but he was much more interested in the berth. He grabbed one of the blankets and tugged experimentally. Heavy. He would need both hands and all his strength to move all these materials, which meant getting his egg tucked away somewhere safe and hidden.

With a quick look around, he nestled it between several pillows under the berth, a space he could easily fit into but the larger grounders couldn't. Then he went to work stripping the berth and hauling everything back to his room as quickly as he could. In his anticipation he felt his thrusters fire on the way back to retrieve his egg and was momentarily startled before realizing that yes, he could fly.

He'd almost forgotten, and a curse hissed out from between his denta. They'd grounded him and broken him, but he would find his wings again. 

Wary of flying through the tighter spaces, more so for his eggs' safety than his own, he settled for running back and forth until he had the egg in his arms again, and left the Prime's stripped berthroom, searching out more supplies. 

A chair was grabbed to be dragged behind and he tipped it onto its back in his room, then moved the others around with it, starting to form a barrier. His egg was tucked away into the corner, hidden in an inconspicuous pillow, and then he was moving again.

He wasn't even fully aware of what he was doing or why, just knew that he _had_ to do it. Had to nest. Had to build barriers and traps for any grounders who might try to approach without knowing the exact way.

Fortunately for all involved, the next time anyone appeared began with a knock on the door well past afternoon on his third orn, and Starscream was snuggled comfortably in his newly finished nest.

He hissed immediately in that direction, waited a moment, and then when no one tried to force their way in he set his egg down and stood, making his way out of the soft inner nest. It was barricaded by his upended berth in the center and upended tables and chairs on the sides, piles that stretched to the ceiling. He ducked through the hidden opening, wings tucking to his back as he moved through the maze of furniture, broken picture frames, and everything else he'd been able to move. 

It was all as it should be, traps undisturbed, warning snares in place. Nothing had been touched all the way to the door that led to the hallway.

"Who and what?" he snapped at the closed door, careful not to trigger it to open.

"Optimus Prime, and I brought good energon," a deep rumble came from the other side.

"Set the energon down and back away from the door," Starscream ordered, and then after a moment, added, "And turn around."

"Very well," the Prime sounded accepting in a slightly annoyed way, and after another moment, Starscream cautiously stepped close enough for the door to open and found it exactly as he'd demanded.

"I would like to talk with you, Torrent," Optimus said without looking.

"You can do it from there," Starscream said as he inspected the cube and took a small, careful sip. It tasted like the one Ratchet had given him earlier, but he wasn't about to trust the grounders. They'd already drugged him once.

"I've seen that you have gathered a great deal of material. Is it for your nest?" Optimus asked calmly, this time even his field expressing how much it wasn't an issue to him.

"It's mine!" Starscream still snapped defensively. "The nest is mine, this room is mine, this egg is _mine._ It's mine for my nest."

"You are welcomed to it. I wished to know if it was enough," Optimus added a soft, soothing coo to his rumble.

That made the Seeker pause for a moment, a little startled. "...I need some sheet metal," he finally ventured.

"What dimensions and how many sheets?" Optimus asked agreeably, still facing away from Starscream.

Starscream looked back into the core defense of his nest for a moment, then turned back towards the grounder. "Three six-by-eights, three two-by-elevens, and one five-by-twenty."

"They will be left in the corridor here in three joors," Prime responded. "Does your nest need anything else?"

"Just a flock and an open sky," Starscream said. 

"Those I can not provide yet," Optimus didn't hide his deep, genuine regret. "Do _you_ want anything to care for your eggs better?"

"I need energon, and to be left alone," Starscream said. "That's all I want. No one comes near them. No one even _looks_ at them once they've released."

"Not even my medic, Ratchet, to ensure they are healthy?" Optimus asked. "I want them to be healthy and strong so they hatch and become Seekers."

Starscream scowled. "Fine. The medic can see them."

"Thank you," Optimus said with honest relief. "Is the one you rescued still doing well?"

"It's safe," Starscream said, and the lingering suspicion of all grounders refused to fade, and his tone sharpened. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I will do all in my power to ensure it has the best chance it can to hatch and grow strong," Optimus answered without a hint of an issue with explaining. "I want all four to hatch into healthy little Seekers for you to raise. Part of doing so is knowing whether the eggs, and you, are healthy or in need."

"I _need_ the one hundred and twelve eggs that were torn from my arms," Starscream said in a low hiss. "Can you give me those?"

There was a beat of silence. 

"I cannot," the Prime murmured. "I am sorry for their loss, and yours, and what you suffered. What your kin suffered, and still suffer. I am sorry we did not do better." 

"Then there is nothing more that I want or need," Starscream said, "Except to be left alone, if you won't free me."

"Then recharge well, Torrent," the Prime said with graceful acceptance of the dismissal that no being created for authority would have. As Starscream watched, slightly stunned by the response, the giant of a grounder walked towards the front of the massive complex of rooms and his personal suite.

* * *

Starscream stayed huddled in his inner nest for the next orn, holding the egg and petting it, coaxing its light to respond and strengthen. He wasn't sure, but he thought it looked dim. At its brightest, he could still see the individual spark-beats, pulsing so fast that they looked more like a flicker. He didn't know if that was right, and he wished he had someone around to tell him. Cirrus had raised creations before being caught, he would know. Starscream hadn't even paid attention to the older Visions of his flock when they'd talked about all of this. 

He sighed and looked out the window. He was bored, and restless, and despite both of those, was able to feel overwhelmed at the same time. 

_Alive._

He kept booting up expecting to feel a grounder's hands on his frame, groping him, prodding between his legs, stroking over his spark--

This didn't feel real.

He needed to move, to feel and see a door open at his will.

Without even realizing it he tucked the egg into a safe spot, covered deep inside the nest. It would be safe there for a few kliks while he made sure that doors still opened. No grounder could get in that quickly and he wouldn't be far. If any of them tried to get into his nest, he would hear it. 

He got out silently and felt _relief_ when the office door opened. He skipped the giant washrack and went for the hall door, which also let him out. On high alert in case the Prime was wandering around, he crept into the foyer and looked about. Silent and seemingly empty. 

He tried the Prime's double doors, which still opened for him. A glance inside showed that the bedding, lounges, and paintings that he'd taken to break down for his nest had all been replaced. He glanced around, then headed back into the foyer. 

Moving felt good. Surreal, but good. And frightening. Wide open spaces meant more places for grounders to be. The only place safe from them was the sky. But he couldn't reach the sky.

His thoughts were momentarily derailed by the magma pool in one of the rooms adjoining the grand foyer and it sank into his chaotic thoughts that it, too, was larger than the cell he'd been for so long. Larger, maybe, than even the entire cell block. It was hard to remember already.

He stopped, looked at it, then walked towards it. He could feel the heat as soon as he stepped through the archway. He hadn't explored this room fully before, too busy building. 

Stone benches were carved right into the wall, a smooth rock that had to have been imported and hollowed out, a slate gray, lightly speckled color. There were lounges with pillows big enough for shuttles, and nooks small enough for a symbiot to feel secure. It was hard to tell how deep the pool went, but he could see a bench lining it beneath the liquid, with shallow steps that led in. The entire chamber was vaulted and massive, with warm lights placed into the very walls. 

Sheer, unapologetic, excessive luxury. While his kin had suffered and died, grounders had been here, drinking, relaxing, fragging, talking. Not a care in the world. While Torrent had been watched his companion deactivate in pain, while Cirrus had watched his eggs carried away, while Starscream had been raped...

His wings twitched. This wasn't supposed to be his life.

He barely felt himself fall to his knees or the violent trembling of his frame as it all came crashing in on him. Pain, loss, anger, grief, horror, abuse, insanity, _giving up_ ... seventeen vorns all coalesced into a single moment that went on forever.

His choice to interface--stolen. 

His choice to create--stolen. 

His right to _himself_ \--stolen. 

His eggs--

He wailed. Stolen, tortured, consumed. Bright sparks that he couldn't help but love, innocent lives he'd held inside his own frame, feeling their warmth and joy of life, knowing what their last moments would have been. 

He curled on the ground, sobbing. Flares of distress came from the eggs still safely within, and he still couldn't stop.

* * *

Optimus returned to his residence worn out and looking forward to a long soak in the molten pool, Jazz's distracting company and a long night's recharge. It had been a brutal orn working the Senate. Even after his vorns as Prime, he still understood them even less than they understood him. He simply could not comprehend why they were "unable" to tax the richest of society a fraction of their income to ensure the stability of the entire empire.

Too stressed to even think to object to the guards opening the grand double doors for him, he froze a single step in at the audial-grating sounds of distress from inside. Even the guards looked unsettled as they rushed to investigate and protect him from whatever it was.

"No," he said, and put a hand on each tank-former's shoulder. He could teek their reluctance to allow him to risk himself, but no resistance to his command. But they returned to their posts and closed the doors, locking them as the weariness vanished from his frame and processors. He was needed. His needs now came second and it felt _good_.

He followed the sounds through the grand foyer, eventually coming to the giant molten rock pool, a particular indulgence that he hadn't decided how to repurpose yet. He was thinking of having it sealed off from his Residence and turning it into a rehabilitation and therapy center, but so far, hadn't been able to garner the interest needed for the change to occur. 

He came into full view in the doorway so as not to make the Seeker think he was trying to hide or spy, and looked sadly upon the sight of the flier curled up on the floor, crying out his grief. Even without being able to teek, the Prime could sense _pain_. 

He waited and watched. For his presence not to have been immediately latched upon, the Seeker had to be well and truly consumed with whatever horrors he was grieving. 

When the sobbing turned into sharp, shuddering gasps, the shaking became a quiet tremble, and the tension in the frame went slack, he took a step forward. "Torrent?" he murmured, doing his best to be nonthreatening. 

Starscream scrambled to get partially upright and turned around, staring at him. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice not as strong as it had been before, raw and staticky. 

"How can I help you grieve?" Optimus asked and offered, all without moving. The egg wasn't with the Seeker, so he was ready to dive out of the way in case his presence at the door was taken to be standing being creator and creation.

Starscream stared at him for a long moment, and then, sounding bewildered and like he wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly, "What?" 

"How can I help you grieve?" Optimus repeated gently, putting as much comfort and desire to help as he could into his voice. "What can I bring that would help? What do you need for a funeral for your friend?"

After a few more moments, the question's meaning seemed to sink in. Red optics brightened and focused in tighter as Starscream looked at him. "You have Cirrus's frame?" he asked.

"Yes. When I became Prime I ordered that all Seekers be recovered. Alive if possible, their frames if not," Optimus nodded. "What do you need?"

Starscream's wings shook a little and he lifted his chin. He spoke for his kin now, both living and deactivated. "I need a mortar and pestle made of boron nitride, their spark chambers, and a colorless crystal box for each chamber. I also need one for this chamber." He reached into his subspace and pulled something out with the utmost care, cradling it in his palm for a moment before he held it out for Optimus to see. 

"I will see it is done and provided as quickly as possible," Optimus promised, his gaze on the tiny crystal sphere and the damage to it. It must have come from an egg. It was so tiny. He felt himself shiver with a surge of grief at knowing what must have happened for the Seeker to have possession of it. "I ... I am sorry I could not save them."

"This one's designation was Sheersky," Starscream said, almost like he hadn't heard the apology, looking back down at the crystal as he brought it close to his chest. "I tried not to know, but I remember every single one. This chamber..." He extended a single claw, slipping it through the point of damage. "Was one of the few we were able to spare. He must stand for every lost seekerling. My creations..." His voice faded he curled forward, shaking again. "Why did they do this to us?" he whispered.

"Because some mecha are pure evil," Optimus could respond with nothing but the truth he felt and believed in his spark and from the Matrix that was part of him now. "Primus gave us all life, yet his brother managed to corrupt some beyond redemption."

"Nothing in there could have come from Primus," Starscream said in a low voice. He looked right at the Prime, and Optimus felt the eerie sensation of knowing that the wings were focused directly on him without having been built to recognize or understand that form of sensation or communication. "Are there more?"

"Yes," Optimus couldn't bring himself to lie. "We have stopped many, but not all. It will be a long battle that has only just begun."

"Vos will destroy you," Starscream hissed. His wings flattened. "We will rain down destruction and death until we _know_ that they are gone. The Winglord will consume the false sparks until nothing is left but their husks, and they will be cast into the void of space. Their atoms will no longer pollute this planet's surface when we have finished."

"If that would not destroy many good sparks to remove the bad, I would welcome it," Optimus said quietly. "I cannot permit such a war."

"You may not have a choice," Starscream said. "Not when the Winglord learns the full extent of these depravities."

"Which is why you have not returned home," Optimus sighed. "The Winglord cannot learn until it is over. I have yet to find a solution to that problem."

"Someone else will escape." Starscream's wings lowered. "I couldn't, but someone will. You can't avoid it forever. What became of my captors?"

"Those that survived the strikes were taken by SpecOps, interrogated for useful information and will be executed. I stripped every mecha involved in the trade of legal citizenship when I learned of the evil they do. It has little impact on most nobles, but it is useful against those who would supply them." Optimus explained such as he could, then paused. "The guard Prowl stopped from killing you and Swindle are both still among the functioning. If you wish to witness their executions?"

"You have Swindle?" Starscream asked sharply, focusing in on that one designation.

"Yes," Optimus nodded.

Starscream's engines snarled. "How will you execute him?"

That made Optimus shift uneasily. He hated thinking of this, of intentionally taking any life, even one that evil. "He ... will be injected with a corrosive. I have not decided how public it will be."

"Boil him," Starscream said, his voice like steel.

The very idea made Optimus recoil, but he steadied himself. "Why boil?" he managed to get out.

"That's what they did to my eggs," Starscream said flatly, turning back to look at the pool. "They're displayed live for the feast, and placed in boiling oil. They scream."

"Primus..." Optimus whispered, shaken and too deeply in shock at the description to do more than stand there and try to comprehend the horror and _evil_ required to do that.

"They don't think we're mecha," Starscream said. "They didn't treat us as _sentient._ I will be there when they die, no matter how it happens, but you should boil them if you want justice."

Optimus had to scramble to collect his wits amongst the emotions storming his thoughts. "You will be," he promised. "That I can do." He switched to his comms. ::You heard that, I know you did. Don't make me a liar.::

::Understood, sir. They'll live long enough ta be executed,:: Jazz answered solemnly, far more serious than he usually managed. ::Sorry ya had ta hear that.::

::It's true then.:: Optimus couldn't feel a little more sick as his hope that it was somehow an exaggeration was crushed.

::That and worse,:: Jazz admitted. ::But that is the ... _traditional_ way of serving them.::

Optimus shuddered and turned his attention back to the huddled Seeker. He thought he could see the expansion in his middle where the eggs were being constructed--Ratchet had told him there were three--but he wasn't very familiar with these frames.

He wanted to touch, explore, learn about this unfamiliar and fascinating way of creating life. New life was was sacred, no matter how it happened, and their species had been separated for so long that almost nothing was known about the flight frames. And they knew even less about Seekers than Shuttles. 

Instead, he stayed a safe distance away, and crossed over to the edge of the pool, first crouching, and then sitting. "Do you know the designations of your youngest?" he asked. 

Starscream's hand went to his middle. "Yes," he said. "In a way. I sense them. Their fields are unique."

"What are their designations?" Optimus asked gently and inched closer. "Are they warm enough?"

"They are," Starscream said. "No designations. Not out loud."

Optimus paused. "Why not?"

"Because it will make them real," Starscream snapped with a snarl rising from his engines, wings rattling in a threat.

"But they are real, and they are yours, and you will raise them," Optimus countered gently. "These will not be taken from you."

"I won't believe it until they are out of their shells and in my arms," Starscream said. "Do not ask me for their designations again, _dirtkisser._ "

"As you wish," Optimus didn't take the bait as he settled into silent companionship for a while.

He was aware of the Seeker's steady wing-gaze, a truly strange sensation for the grounder, but stayed relaxed and looked calmly out over the magma. 

" _What_ are you doing?" Starscream finally snapped impatiently.

"Relaxing with you," Optimus answered reasonably. "The heat is pleasant."

Starscream eyed him suspiciously, then stood. "I am returning to my nest," he said. "Do not follow me."

Optimus simply nodded and slipped into the molten stone while the Seeker stood and stalked out. A couple kliks later Jazz sank to his knees behind him and began to work the tired kinks out of his neck and shoulders.

"I could have gone the rest of my life without learning that," Optimus murmured after a while.

"You and me both," Jazz agreed grimly. "The horrific things mecha do still manages ta surprise me after all this time."

"What do you think of his idea for justice?" Optimus asked after another klik. 

"It's vengeance," Jazz shrugged. "Whether that is justice depends on your view of it. I like it, but I was created with a less than perfect moral code."

Optimus nodded, then sighed heavily. "As much as I wish I'd never learned it, I know he wishes he'd never lived it even more. I'm glad to know." He glanced over his shoulder at the silver minibot. "Swindle will be executed humanely. It will be as painless as possible, and will not be dragged out."

Jazz nodded. "Maybe ya can let Torrent throw the switch. It won't be what he wants, but it would at least give him a sense of personal power and payback. That he lasted seventeen vorns under those conditions with as much fire as he still has is amazing, but don't let it fool ya. He's a severely broken mecha. He'll fluctuate from sane ta suicidal ta just insane at random as the emotions work themselves out." He paused. "In Ops, we give an agent who's gone through severe trauma at least half as much time off as he suffered before we even look at serious evaluations, an' that's for mecha who are eager ta use the help offered an' want the prize at the end. Torrent doesn't know there even is a prize, and he's definitely not goin' ta trust the psych help."

"As far as I'm concerned, our goal is to return him home to the kin he trusts," Optimus rumbled. "We're keeping him a prisoner as much as they were." 

"We're not raping him, drugging him, and torturing his eggs to death," Jazz said quietly. 

"Bars are still bars," Optimus answered. "Gilded as they may be."

Jazz hummed. "We really don't have a good plan for that. Or for his creations. We could send them to Vos as eggs easily enough, but that would mean taking them from him, an'a somehow I don't think that's an option. We _can't_ let him testify yet or we'll have an open war no matter how completely we've shut down the trade."

"What am I supposed to do, keep him and his creations locked up for the rest of their lives?" Optimus asked, groaning as nimble fingers found a particularly tense cable in the base of his neck.

"I know what I'd do, and I know you'd never authorize it, much less do it," Jazz said quietly. "As for what you'd accept ... if you can get him to love you, maybe it'll be enough. Convince him to stay, because he wants to stay, and it's no longer a cage. Then his creations could leave too, as long as they're reasonable."

As much as Optimus balked at the idea, he couldn't argue against it. "And then when he speaks to his kin, his words will be gentled." He x-vented heavily. "I will not try to trick him or make him believe in something false. I would be his friend, and that is all."

"Not asking ya to," Jazz cooed gently, reassuringly. "Y' don't _need_ to. We really have made a huge impact in the number of breeders, made it less tempting for new ones to try, and we're working on quietly making the nobles that get off on caevum disappear. It's not settled yet, but we're making a really big dent."

Optimus nodded. His helm was pounding from the stress and pressure. He wanted to fight corruption in his government, and he'd found himself fighting it on a planet-wide scale. He was keeping an innocent prisoner to prevent a war that was in many ways deserved. "Jazz," he murmured.

"Shh, my Prime," the minibot cooed as his touch turned enticing. "Enough politics. Our guest is safe and content in his nest and will be well past dawn. Let me burn off that stress so you recharge well."

Optimus nodded and sank into the magma as Jazz climbed around onto his lap. He'd learned quickly that lovers were an easy thing for a Prime to come across, but lovers he trusted would be few and far in between. Jazz was one of the few, in no small part because they had been lovers before Orion became Optimus. 

That was the last real thought he had for the night. 


	9. For the Good of the Eggs

Optimus had a bad feeling when Ratchet called and said they needed to talk about their guest. He knew the Seeker was drinking his energon, had consumed the sweets he had brought him last night and seemed to be doing reasonably well. Yet it was Ratchet and that meant something was _wrong_. Despite looking strong and commanding, his spark was uneasy as he pinged the office door to the Physician to the Prime.

"Good, you're here," Ratchet said gruffly. He pointed at a chair. "We need to have a chat. Sit."

Optimus complied, not at all prepared to resist Ratchet's authority.

"SpecOps finally released the science and medical documents recovered from Swindle's facilities to me," Ratchet said. "I've gone over them, and he was disturbingly interested in the science behind how Seekers create." He held up a datapad and looked at it. "Had it down to chemicals and hormones, turned it into a real breeding program."

Optimus knew how queasy he was showed, but he held his silence. The medic pinned him down with his glare. "So a few things to know about your Seeker. One: he was injected with a cocktail that put him into heat--a sort of primed state that only needs a spark merge to trigger the egg creating process. It was paired with what they called 'internal massage,' which is just valve stimulation to help the heat set in. The older they got, the more they needed that."

"Do I really need to know the details of his abuses?" Optimus asked. He wouldn't recharge without nightmares for orns at this rate.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge at him. "Two," he said, like Optimus hadn't said anything. "He discovered through experimentation that Seekers who were 'regularly injected with mineral-supplemented transfluid'--in other words, raped by mecha on a special diet--grew larger and better eggs. He _also_ discovered through experimentation that the transfluid had to be delivered through regular interfacing, rather than simply being collected and implanted some other way." He looked right at Optimus. "What I draw from this is that interfacing triggers their frames to use the transfluid, or in some other way benefits their health. I don't know how necessary it is, though his controls still produced eggs of acceptable size."

"He could have been a benefit to society if he had focused on something good." Optimus forced himself not to think of what his guest had endured. "So Torrent's eggs would benefit if he had a lover, but it is not required."

"Likely," Ratchet said. "Swindle also noted that without regular internal..." He stopped, sighed, and rubbed his helm. "I want you to know I'm giving you the condensed and cleaned up version of all this. I feel like electing myself for a full memory scrub. _Any_ way, the ones who weren't regularly _raped_ were more restless and agitated. If supplied with the appropriate tools--false spikes--most of them took advantage."

"I'll bring a selection for him tonight, and ... discuss this. Somehow." Optimus scrubbed his face. "Swindle is truly a very sick spark."

Ratchet sighed. "If I hadn't known what his subjects were, I would have described the author of this work as humane. He talks about them like mechaanimals, and ran an operation that would have been considered cruelty free if it hadn't been on sentient beings. But yes, Torrent's probably going to be getting twitchy soon."

"And sentience makes all the difference," Optimus sighed. "Is there anything else I should know before I speak to him next?"

Ratchet shook his helm. "That's all I have in the way of disturbing news for today."

"Hopefully the last you have for some time," Optimus said as he stood, gathered himself and put on his public facade.

* * *

Starscream prowled around the empty confines of his prison, wings twitching with every step. He was restless. Trapped. Wanted to fly. Wanted to be in the middle of flock while every single one of them--

He huffed, glaring death at the random sculpture across the room. 

Fraggit all, he wanted to frag. 

He guessed it was the eggs. The grounder rapists had been on such a regular schedule, he wasn't sure if he was just used to it by now or if all carriers experienced this. 

He guessed that they all did. Carrying Visions spent more time with their trines in the inner nest interfacing than even the most lusty. 

But there were no Seekers, and he would be damned if he let another grounder touch him.

He heard the vibrations of the heavy grounder frame long before the Prime entered the art gallery and announced himself. He stifled his groan and turned around, optics narrowed into slits. He wanted to get back to his nest and see what he could accomplish with his own fingers, but apparently he had to get through the obnoxiously looming grounder first. "Yes?"

"I thought you might find these ... umm ... useful," Optimus tried not to stammer as he held out a non-descript box. "And ... Ratchet learned a few things. About how to ensure strong sparklings and eggs."

"Ugh, _what_ are you babbling about," Starscream said, stalking forward and snatching the box. "What is this." He found the latch and flipped the lid back. And froze, wings going straight up in shock. "What--what--" His field flushed and he quickly shoved the thing back into Optimus's hands. "What are you doing!"

"Ratchet found that most carriers become twitchy and irritable if they do not interface often," the Prime managed to get out. "You don't have a ... lover. It won't be as good for the eggs, but at least it will deal with the ... desires."

Starscream folded his arms over his chest and shifted back and forth, optics fixed on the box. Some of those _had_ looked intriguing. "What about being good for the eggs?" he asked, distracted.

"Mineral rich," Prime's vocalizer skidded a bit, "transfluid helps them grow larger and stronger than without. But how it has ... you have to actually interface for it to be useful."

Starscream stared at him. "I am not hearing this," he said. But the sires had said something similar. Didn't matter, though. No Seekers, no interfacing. "Give me that," he said, and snatched the box back, turning around so he could look at the options without having to see the grounder standing there stammering. There were four, each nestled in their own hollow in the box with the center hollow taken up by various cleaning supplies. The sizes were all comparable to his own, but the designs varied greatly. From a simple one like they'd had in the cells to what looked like one that could extend and retract. There were notes on two of them, instructions.

He x-vented and felt a little quivery. Well that was ... well. He rebooted his vocalizer. "I, ah, I'm going back to my nest. Alone." He turned around, and then clutched the box to his chest, wings lifting in a threat. "And this is mine, you can't have it! It's mine."

"Of course," Optimus sounded relieved as he stepped aside. "I brought it, all of it, for you."

"Good," Starscream said, and carefully inched around him, staying out of arm's reach and never facing away until he was at the archway. The Prime didn't try to follow, not even turning to keep an optic on him. Starscream fled to his nest, checked on his egg, made sure it was tucked somewhere safe, and then opened the box again. 

The first was immediately discarded. He had enough reminders of that place, he didn't need one more. The second looked like glass, or a hard plastic, clear with dark blue streaks through the middle. It had alternating rings and ridges down the length. That would feel good. So would the third one, shaped like a twisting tentacle with plenty of texture. He glanced at the instructions, and realized that it could rotate at different speeds. He lifted it up and twisted the base, and had to stifle his moan when it started to move. It was made of a more pliant material, one that would be able to give a little as he clenched around it. 

Okay, steady. One more to go.

This one was the most complicated of the four, the one that looked like it had moving parts. He lifted it up, ignored the instructions, and pressed one of the buttons on the base. It immediately magnetized to his hand. He pressed the button again and it let go. Another button caused the stubby length to surge forward, then back, lifting the base off his hand before it came full length forward again.

It would feel almost like a real spiking, but without the mech attached.

It started to expand, and then suddenly, all motion stopped. Starscream scowled at it, then grabbed the little list of instructions and read over it. 

Oh, that was the problem. It was trying to fit to his internal dimensions, didn't work if there was nothing to fit to. 

He bit his lower lip, glancing around, and then shoved the box with the other three aside and settled down on his nest. His valve cover slid open without command, dripping lubricant onto the soft blanket. He gave a double check of the instructions, slid it button-side down into his valve and pressed the magnetize button. It locked to him immediately. The next button over and it started to expand and push deeper, and his hand fell away. Oh, _frag_ him it felt good to have something in there.

He barely heard himself moan as he fell back, laying flat on the berth as the toy pushed in and pulled out in a solid rhythm. He spread his legs further apart, even though there was no one to make room for as the charge began to quickly build at the deep, steady penetration that hit all the right places.

How long had it been since he'd had something he _wanted_ inside his frame? And an overload that wasn't the result of a spark rape or desperately trying to rid himself of heat. 

He grabbed the blanket beneath him and rocked his hips up. Stretching, pulling, _frag so full_ \--he whimpered, and then moaned, and imagined his flock around him. It was a spark-deep fantasy, and brought an overload that knocked him offline faster than he saw it coming, and still the toy continued to pump into him, building his charge even unaware.

He drifted in and out of reality, all of it to the steady thrusting inside his clenched-down valve. At some point he became aware enough to roll over and push his hips in the air, biting down on a pillow as he keened and overloaded. 

_So. Fragging. Good._

* * *

Starscream was resting on his front, stroking his fingers over Cirrus's egg and enjoying the way the spark inside pulsed in response. It still wasn't as strong as he wanted it to be, but it was getting brighter with every passing orn. 

The door chimed, right on time. With a groan--he was _comfortable_ frag it--he got up and made his way through his nest. "Who and what?" he demanded. 

"Optimus, and some jelly filled rust sticks, if you'd like them," the familiar voice called back from exactly where the big mech stood every night with a similar offering. If he'd been a Seeker, this would be serious courting behavior.

Starscream tilted his head and thought for a moment, then opened the door. He saw the startled look flash across the big grounder's face before it was composed again. "Get that stupid look off your face and give," he said, holding his hand out.

The neatly wrapped package was handed over without hesitation. "How are the eggs doing?"

"They're well," Starscream said. "Cirrus's still looks dim to me."

"Is there anything you know of that can help strengthen him?" Optimus asked, as willing as he always was to give was what asked for.

"Don't know slag about eggs," Starscream said, shrugging as he unwrapped the box and began picking through the rust sticks for one with excess flavoring on the outside. "Just what I saw with the others. Cirrus was old. Maybe it's normal."

"If you think of anything, I want to help," Optimus repeated as he had so many times. "He deserves a full chance at life. They all do."

Starscream nodded. "Yeah. They all did. But sometimes life sucks exhaust and you learn to deal with the fallout." 

"That we do," Optimus couldn't help a small, knowing smile. "Sometimes what defines us is how we deal with the aftermath, good and bad."

"Well _I'm_ going to live," Starscream said. "And I'm going to bring four healthy seekerlings into the world, and make sure those who would have hurt them pay."

"Speaking of making them pay. How soon would you have Swindle executed?" Optimus smoothly switched tracks to keep the Seeker in a good, if cruel, state of mind.

Starscream paused halfway through a rust stick to think about it. "Before the eggs hatch," he finally said. "I want him gone before they're here."

Optimus nodded. "You may select the orn. They are done with him."

"I'll think about it," Starscream said, slipping his hand over his middle. His armor had definitely extended since arriving. He'd found that time keeping was harder here. He'd learned to keep it based on sire appearances instead of the artificial orn cycles, and lacked that kind of marker here. He lifted the box. "Thank you, these are good. You can go."

"I'm glad you enjoy them, Torrent," Optimus smiled, inclined his helm respectfully, and walked towards the front of the complex and his berthroom suite.

* * *

It was two decaorns later and Starscream couldn't fail to notice that while the Prime never outright asked what treats he liked, as the orns passed he was getting very good at bringing just what Starscream was craving that orn. Usually it was rusty and sweet, but like today, he wanted something sharp and acidic.

"These are a favorite of Prowl's, the mech who saved you," Optimus said conversationally. "They're far too strong for me, but perhaps you will enjoy them."

Starscream spent half a klik picking through the treats in the box until he found one whose appearance was satisfying enough and lifted it out. He regarded it critically for a moment, as he did every new treat that Optimus brought. Partly it was because he liked imagining the big grounder squirming inside, and partly it was to check for flaws in the gift before accepting. Once he'd had enough and decided it was an acceptable treat, he popped it into his mouth. 

He was immediately hit with the sharp, tangy acidity and couldn't quite stifle the low, pleasured moan and the pleased flutter in his wings. The brush of the grounder's field, full of pleasure at his enjoyment, didn't even take anything away. Of course the grounder would be pleased at his approval.

"How are the eggs doing?" Optimus asked when Starscream came down from his pleasure.

"You know," Starscream said conversationally, "I would think that if their condition was altered in a way that needed knowing about, after Ratchet, you would be the very next one notified. And probably by him."

A small smile crossed the Prime's features as Starscream enjoyed another treat. "I'm sure. It does not change that I like to hear that they are growing well and still strong."

"Very well, they are growing well and still strong," Starscream said. "Just like every orn previous." He hand moved absently over his middle. "I hope the same stays true once they've hatched."

"We will do all we can to ensure they do," Optimus promised. "You will have four healthy, strong and active creations."

Starscream nodded, picked out a final treat, and then closed the box to save the rest for later. "I require log-in permissions for your university's science and research databases," he said. "As well as material appropriate for a student."

Optimus nodded. "I will arrange it. What fields of study?"

"All fields of study," Starscream said simply, meeting soft blue optics and got the unnerving sensation that the big mech was looking _into_ him.

"As you wish," Optimus inclined his helm after a moment. "Are there any fields where you have completed the basic courses?"

Starscream cocked his head. "In Vos, I completed a basic degree. I'm not sure how that would transfer here, but physics and chemistry were my focuses."

"Then an entry test to place your knowledge levels will be included. There is no need to take coursework you already know," Optimus gave a warm smile of encouragement.

"Are you saying you're going to actually _enroll_ me?" Starscream asked, wings lifting hopefully. "Can courses be taken remotely?"

Optimus cycled his optics. "I believed that was what you asked for, so yes, I intended to have you enrolled. Many courses can be taken remotely. Some may require a tutor or for the instructor to come here to test you, but there is no reason you cannot have credit for what you are doing. Some courses might have to be held off until the sparklings are old enough to be away from you for a few joors, for their safety. I know some chemistry and physics experiments can be dangerous to them."

"I only thought I would get access to the databases," Starscream said. "And material to teach myself. All theoretical, no practical." He frowned and rocked on his pedes. "What about admission? The administrator I spoke to before told me the process for higher level admittance was lengthy."

"I expect is it," Optimus shrugged. "There are advantages to being Prime, and this is one of the few I don't find objectionable to take advantage of. If you wish to learn, I'll give you every opening I can arrange. If that includes prodding the administration to give you special consideration, so be it." He paused. "Unless you do not wish my designation involved in your admission...."

Starscream narrowed his optics at him. "That sounds like a challenge," he said. 

"It is not," Optimus shook his helm. "I have heard that some mecha do not view those who have help in admissions as equals. I did not want to force you into a situation that will harm you in the long run with my efforts to help."

Starscream hummed and nodded. "A good point," he said. "For now, if you can, only the access and the self-teaching materials. I will apply when I am no longer a prisoner."

"I can," Optimus promised. "You will have more than enough to keep your processors occupied with learning, and access to material for some practical experiments. There are plenty of unused rooms for you to set up a lab in."

"We'll see to that when the need arises," Starscream said, then waved him off and turned back into his nest.

* * *

Optimus was lounging in one of the few luxuries in his quarters that he didn't feel was too ostentatious for him. He really did enjoy the magma, but that room was just too much. This, a hot oil pool in his personal washrack, while large enough for three mecha his size, was much more reasonable. He still occasionally felt guilty indulging in it knowing that it cost more to heat than many mecha made in an orn, but he was beginning to grasp just how good it was to have a soft berth, hot shower and hot oil to soak in after a grueling orn. He remembered enjoying his work in the archives, sorting and filing data. Those orns of enjoying his duties seemed far more than the score vorns ago they actually were.

Now it was all politics and drama, making sure no one was ever _too_ upset or _too_ happy, keeping an entire empire balanced on a pinpoint precipice. He sighed. There were so many changes to make and so many things to fix, and he hadn't realized how _slowly_ he would need to move or risk upsetting the entire thing. 

"And here I thought I might find you doing something _interesting,_ " came the now-familiar voice from behind him.

"Define interesting, Torrent," Optimus glanced towards the egg-heavy Seeker by the door.

Starscream shrugged. "Having an orgy, or perhaps ordering someone's death. Maybe both. Primely things. Do you spend _all_ your evenings alone?"

"Only most of them. It's a relief after dealing with politics all orn," he relaxed in the oil. "You're welcome in the oil. It's quite pleasant."

"Hm." Starscream peered at him, then carefully crossed around to the other side of the pool and dipped one pede in experimentally. The rest of him followed quickly as he sank into the heat. Cooling systems kicked into gear almost immediately, but it felt amazing and he had no plans to move any time soon. He shuttered his optics and x-vented as the oil worked into joints and under plating, coating everything. His entire frame felt stiff, both with tension and inactivity. He couldn't remember the last time he'd transformed, and his wings definitely felt the lack of flight.

"You are always welcome to use this one, if you don't like one of the others," Optimus made the offer, though he was sure the Seeker didn't need the invitation. "It's wonderful for stiff joints."

"I can tell," Starscream groaned, sliding down until the oil was at his neck, helm resting back against the edge. They sat in comfortable silence for a while until Starscream half-opened one of his optics to look lazily at the Prime. "What treats do I get today?" he asked.

"You want them early, do you?" Optimus teased.

"Obviously, or I would not have asked," Starscream said, but his voice lacked the kind of bite that Optimus would have expected to accompany such a statement. And then the Seeker added, "Do I have to explain everything to you?"

"Occasionally," the big mech chuckled and reached into his subspace to offer a box of the highly prized rust sticks with jelly centers.

"Ooh." Starscream lifted up out of the oil and gleefully took the box that he recognized as a favorite flavor, immediately putting one into his mouth. He paused to savor, then hummed, then consumed two more before hesitating. After a moment of what looked like internal debate, he held the box out towards Optimus.

Optimus's smile warmed considerably and he reached out to carefully select one for himself. "Thank you, Torrent," he said before he began savoring it just as much as Starscream did. "They are wonderfully sweet."

"They are," Starscream said, watching him intently, before forcefully breaking that focus and pulling the box back out of reach. He slipped it into subspace, then shifted uncomfortably. Maybe it was the eggs, but he was getting hot, and high temperature notices were starting to scroll across his HUD. But he was still so sore, and the heat was at least getting rid of the ache while he was surrounded by it. 

But he didn't want to damage the eggs, so he reluctantly lifted himself out of the pool and sat on the edge so his fans could run fully.

"Are you sore?" Optimus asked after a couple kliks.

Starscream huffed, then nodded. "Haven't flown since before going in there," he said. "Haven't transformed, I've barely moved, my wings are tight, my frame feels like it's been through a scrapper."

"Can you transform while carrying?" Optimus asked as he studied the Seeker.

Starscream glanced warily down at his frame. "I don't know," he said. "I've never seen a carrier transform but they also have no reason to. They stay in the nest, their Actions and Orders get everything they need. I don't feel like I should try."

"Then you shouldn't until they emerge," Optimus shifted. "If you would like, I can massage what's sore."

Starscream tensed visibly and shifted away. 

"Only if you like," Optimus repeated, harmonics of honesty and openness lacing the glyphs. "If you do not wish it, I will not offer again." 

Starscream watched him carefully for a long klik. "I swore I would never let another grounder touch my frame again," he said slowly.

"Then you should keep your vow for as long as it has meaning to you," Optimus said firmly. "I only wished to offer comfort, not to cause distress."

Starscream nodded, and then, looking unnerved, got to his pedes and left. Optimus let him go, of course, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed in the encounter, and saddened that the Seeker had been so badly hurt he could not even accept comfort as offered. 

But he went about the rest of his evening as usual, ending it by settling in on a lounge in front of the decorative heated coals set into the hearth in his berthroom, reading a datapad with the next orn's schedule on it. He heard the doors opening but didn't look up. After a moment, the white and red frame came into his peripheral and he glanced over with a warm smile. "Hello, Torrent. Would you like to join me?" 

Starscream glanced to the side, huffed, then sat awkwardly on the other side of the lounge, back half turned towards him. "My wings require massage," he said.

Optimus smiled brightly and knew his field showed it just as clearly as he set the datapad down and turned to focus on the spread of wings and back before him. With fingers that still occasionally seemed too large he began to rub the wing joints with light pressure.

It pulled an immediate groan from the Seeker and his back arched up into the fingers. Optimus kept his field carefully pulled in and controlled as he continued to work, first on the central joints, and then moving outward. Within a breem all Starscream could do was quiver and give breathy little sounds of bliss as his frame slowly began to melt under the physical attention he'd been longing for. When it moved beyond his wings--and only after getting permission--it got, if possible, even better. And once the fingers reached the sore and stretched cabling around his middle, Starscream thought he might never move again.

Eventually his optics drifted off, then closed, and he sagged into a welcome recharge.

* * *

When Starscream brought his optics online, it was to a strange ceiling and _not his nest_ and for a moment, he panicked, scrambling up and looking around. The Prime's chambers. The Prime was nowhere to be seen, but a glance at his chronometer told him that he'd been here almost the entire night. 

_His nest!_

Scrambling, his dignity completely forgotten, Starscream bolted for his nest. He never knew he could move through the tangle so quickly, and didn't realize he was chirping to the egg that he prayed was still there until his vocalizer hitched in a sob of relief when it was pulsing, alive and warm, in his arms.

Only then did he recall seeing the Prime poke his helm into the hallway from another room as he'd rushed past.

He thought he should maybe go out and snap a thank you, but he was also _angry_ at the damn grounder for not returning him to his nest while they had both been vulnerable. Did he not know _anything_ about nesting?!

After a few moments, Starscream realized that no, the stupid grounder probably wouldn't know anything about nesting, and further didn't know anything about how to get into this nest. It didn't stop him from being irritated, though the glow of the egg was at least doing something to mitigate that. Inside him his eggs chirred and chipped at him, uncertain at his agitation that had so quickly calmed as he cradled and rocked Cirrus's final creation to soothe himself.

After a while, he decided to go look for the big mech just to make sure he hadn't got his feelings hurt or something, but a quick tour of his prison showed it to be completely empty, and he returned to his nest to wait. There would still be treats later, he was sure of it. 

The chime that evening came as predicted and Starscream spent a few moments working himself into a suitably irritated state before hiding his egg and making his way over to the door. He opened it without a demand for identification, getting a startled look from Optimus. To his satisfaction, the box of treats was significantly larger than usual.

"You seemed so peaceful I didn't want to wake you," Optimus said by way of apology and offered the box.

A quick inspection showed three varieties, one tart and two sweet, all of them among Starscream's favorites.

He made a show of picking through them, pretended not to find any that were satisfactory, and fixed Optimus with a sharp look. "In future, you will either rouse me, or, if you ever learn how, return me to my inner nest."

"I will," Optimus promised, elated that the potential to be invited inside existed now but careful not to show it.

Starscream huffed, then nodded his satisfaction and selected a treat. "The massage was relaxing," he said. "Thank you." 

Optimus gave a slight smile. "You're welcome," he said. "I'm glad I could help." 

Starscream nodded absently. "You may expect to be called upon to repeat the performance," he informed the grounder. 

Optimus chuckled. "I will make myself ready, then," he said, then inclined his helm in farewell as Starscream headed back into his nest.


	10. Bracketed

Starscream walked through the halls of the underground compound, on high alert as he glanced all around. This was Imperial Special Operations headquarters, and every mecha in this place was probably capable of killing him and taking his eggs. 

The fact that their commander seemed to like him was little comfort. 

Cirrus's egg was wrapped in a soft blanket and cradled in his arms. He'd been unwilling to leave it behind while going so far away, and trusted no one to guard it for him. Chin lifted high and wings held steady by an inner strength that he was trying not to be amazed he still had, he wouldn't let how fearful he was of these grounders show. 

It didn't help that as the little silver grounder that shared Prime's berth on occasion was leading them and the Prime obviously needed the guard.

If anything, the Prime seemed _squeamish_ about the whole thing. Starscream was tempted to ask if he'd rather let the egg-thief and murderer live, just to hear the answer, but decided better of it. 

As they rounded the final corner and moved into the execution chamber, Starscream realized that he might not be as ready for this as he'd thought. 

It was on the other side of a thick pane of glass, but Swindle and one of the guards who'd _stolen_ their eggs were standing there together. Starscream's wings flared up and he snarled, rushing the glass.

"Torrent!" Optimus called out as he ran to catch the rage-filled Seeker, one hand one his free wrist, the other curled along the arm holding the egg, shielding the precious new life with his much heavier armor. "Torrent," he murmured softly, the deep harmonics in his voice triggering an instinct to obey inside Starscream that neither was cognizant of. "They can't hurt you or anyone else ever again. I promised you could kill them and that is why you are here. To be sure they never leave."

" _Thieves_ ," Starscream hissed, a Vosian glyph, ancient and full of hate and grief. "All the thieves will die."

Optimus let him rage, let the pain flow into him, into the Matrix, to help build a better intrinsic understanding of what _Seeker_ meant. It hurt, but he took the pain as his due for not saving so many lives under his watch.

When Starscream had finished cursing and stepped back, Swindle's optic movements became frantic. "Please," he said. "I--I understand what I did was wrong--please, I can help you find more!" Next to him, the guard just shot him a low, resentful glare.

Standing to the side, Jazz snorted. "As if. Ya wouldn't be _there_ if ya had anything valuable ta share. Face ya punishment like a mecha."

Swindle whimpered, looking right at Starscream. "Treated you well, didn't I? Gave you fuel and shelter, didn't hurt you--"

"You _stole_ my _eggs_ ," Starscream snarled. 

"Jazz," Optimus said in a low voice, a command. 

Jazz tipped his helm forward. "Torrent," he said, getting the enraged Seeker's attention and directing it to the switch that would be the end of both mecha. "Hit that and it's over." 

Starscream nodded in understanding and looked right at Swindle. "I. Win," he said, and then flipped the switch. 

It took only moments for the caustic acid to corrode away their spark chambers, and the two frames grayed. 

Starscream stared at them, Optimus and Jazz watching silently. "My seekerlings are still dead," he murmured.

"Yes," Optimus said gently as he stepped close but didn't quite touch. "They will never harm another Seeker, but it does not bring back the deactivated."

Starscream leaned back and silently welcomed the strong arms than enveloped him, positioned to protect the egg in his arms and those still inside him. "All the thieves will die," he said, looking to his egg and stroking it. 

"They have no rights," Optimus murmured. "It's only a matter of catching them."

Starscream nodded, looked at the frames once more, then turned and headed back out into the hall. Optimus and Jazz followed, flanking him until he was once again at the door to his nest. Once Jazz was shooed off he opened it and backed in, then smirked up at Optimus. "Who would've thought a big softie like you would be responsible for the uprooting of this planet's most vile and entrenched market."

Optimus cycled his optics once. "I am not really so much of a softie as you might believe," he said. 

"Maybe not," Starscream said, and his voice dipped. "Not the way _I_ imagine you, at least." And with that, he vanished into his nest.

* * *

Starscream scowled as he paced around the maze of his nest, checking traps and snares, ensuring that the structure was still sound. Ratchet had just left, and the medic thought his eggs were _small._

Healthy, but small. 

Of course what did the grounder know? He'd admitted as much. His guess came from comparisons with recovered records and other deactivated Seekers. 

But still. 

Starscream came back around to the inner nest, checked Cirrus's egg, and looked up out the window. It was likely these were the only sparklings to come from his frame that would reach adulthood, shouldn't he try to give them the very best chance? If they were too small when they hatched, there was always a chance they might not survive the first metacycle. It wasn't unknown, and he wasn't in Vos with access to a specialist.

What he did know was a way to give them the boost in size they needed to be strong. It made his plating crawl to think about it, but the sensation settled a lot when he focused on one specific grounder doing it. Prime was big, strong and ... he wasn't bad for a grounder.

Could he really make himself do it though? To spread his legs _willingly_ for another grounder. It was a difficult thought. One that brought back too many memories.

He shuddered. Would he even be able to hold still? He'd managed it in that cell, but knowing that he could run whenever he wanted...

But he _had_ managed it in the cell, and this would be better. This would be _his_ choice. Yes. That decided it. It was his choice to find a mecha decent enough to give him what he needed. 

He made his way over to the comm line that went directly to Ratchet, and put in a very specific request, and then waited.

* * *

Starscream marched down the hallway to the Prime's berthchamber. He didn't knock or otherwise announce himself as he swooped in, wings and head held high as he went straight to the grounder reading on the berth and then held his hand out. "Eat these," he said.

Optimus took the three small wafers and examined them briefly before putting one in his mouth to taste it.

Starscream watched him silently. Optimus pondered the flavor for a moment, then slipped the next one into his mouth. "What are they?" he asked. 

"They are mineral supplements," Starscream said. "Your transfluid will be useless without them. I have a supply to last you until my eggs release."

The Prime froze, staring at Starscream for a long moment before eating the third wafer. "Why?"

"Because lacking a trine and a flock for appropriate support, I must make do with you," Starscream said. "You are acceptable for a grounder, and my creations are already hybrids. It makes sense."

Optimus nodded. "How ... long before these take affect?"

"You will need to clear out all the transfluid currently in your frame," Starscream said matter-of-factly before walking over to the lounge. "I can wait."

Opening and closing his mouth several times as he processed that, Optimus felt his frame flush with heat, only it wasn't the erotic kind. The only thing he could think of was to ping Jazz with a muddled request as he stared at the Seeker.

"You really want to sit there for joors while my systems get ready?" Optimus eventually managed.

Starscream lifted his hand up for Optimus to see the datapad he was holding. "I brought reading, don't worry," he called.

"Ohh, a voyeur. That's kinky for you, boss," Jazz said cheerfully as he walked in with a wide grin in place. "So what's the gig? Too jacked up ta recharge, need ta get warmed up for him, he teasing you with those pretty wings and ya need relief?"

"His idea," Optimus flushed with embarrassment again. "He wants... umm."

"Oh for Primus's sake!" Starscream scowled at the pair. "He needs his transfluid cleared out so the supplements are in the supply he gives me."

Jazz's visor brightened and he looked at Optimus, and then back to Starscream. "Did ya ask him first?"

"He offered," Starscream said.

Jazz's gaze went back to Optimus.

"I did. I just ... it's rather abrupt," Optimus managed.

"It's okay, Optimus," Jazz trilled with a relaxed frame as he climbed onto the giant berth and slid a hand along Optimus's frame as he moved in for a kiss. "I'll make you forget all about him."

Optimus nodded and tried to relax. "I think, to clear everything out, I--it'll be--um...I hope you don't need to be somewhere."

"Nowhere that can't wait for morning," Jazz purred as he focused his attention on kissing while his hands moved along the broad transparent panels of the convoy's windshield.

Optimus x-vented, then sank down as the last of the tension drained from his frame. His fingers moved to Jazz's waist, holding onto the minibot, rubbing up and down his back strut. "Jazz," he murmured, sinking into the familiar field. Everything else could be blocked out. Even the strangely unsettling presence of the Seeker reading on his lounge. It was just him and Jazz. 

And Jazz's fingers playing around his spike cover. The surge of pleasure went right to Optimus's vocalizer and he moaned as it slid open without command. A shiver of pleasure passed through his frame as those talented fingers played around the housing, drawing the thick, long, decorative spike out.

He'd been so shocked the first time he saw it, a piece of equipment that probably cost more than some mecha ever owned in their entire lives. Jazz was in no small part the reason he could even think about using it. The silver minibot had lavished attention on it until he'd lost all sanity and reason. 

He'd grown to love the extra sensory readings from all the ridges and texture, the way the inlaid gold warmed and softened from the friction of interfacing, the way a glossa felt running up the length. He'd been told that it felt just as good for his partners and he believed in Jazz enough not to question the statement.

With a low groan his hips rolled up into the attention, into the heat encompassing the tip filigreed with glyphs of power and pleasure. In the very back of his processors he remembered how surprised some priests were that he could read the ancient form before he'd become Prime. It had been a pleasant moment when he'd been able to turn being chastised for not paying attention around on his instructor.

Jazz's glossa swirled and he saw stars in his visual feed. He pushed up again and groaned, everything was starting to fuzz and fade--

"Do you have _any_ idea how long it is going to take if you do that the entire time?" 

To his credit, Jazz's attention didn't falter in the least even as Optimus's was wrenched upward. He looked at the lounge and saw Starscream scowling at them. Jazz pulled his helm up and pressed his cheek against the tip, caressing the rest of the length with his hands as he looked lazily over. "Ya wanna get up here an' help?" he asked. 

Starscream's wings flicked up in indignation. "No." 

"Then hush ya vocalizer an' lemme get this big lug ready for ya," Jazz purred. He looked back to Optimus with a dimmed visor and slowly dragged his glossa around the tip. "Ain't all gonna fit in me, ya know," he said with a grin. "Gon' have a messy berth when I'm through with ya." 

"Never bothered you before," Optimus allowed himself to focus on his lover and got his hands to move again, stroking the slender back-swept sensory horns. "Plenty of extra space until it's cleaned."

"Never emptied ya out before," Jazz chuckled as he set back to work, using hands, mouth, and frame all to caress and work his spike until it was so sensitized that all Jazz had to do was lift away, settle between his thighs, and x-vent across the tip.

With a low, rumbling moan Optimus's hips jerked up and the first pulse of thick, hot transfluid erupted from the tip. Shudders ran up through his frame and he gripped the berth, hips pumping upwards into nothing. He was dimly aware of Jazz moving, but it wasn't until he felt the heat wrapping around the tip of his spike that he realized what he was doing. 

"J-Jazz!" he shouted, and couldn't keep from thrusting upward into the small frame.

"Oh _yeah!_ " Jazz moaned, his valve easily expanding to take in the spike of a mech many times his mass with an ease that created only pleasure. "Feel so good. Fill me, hot stuff. Stretch me wide and fill me."

Optimus roared and grabbed the minibot as he thrust up over and over until he erupted inside him, and then Jazz was on his back and it all started over again. 

Starscream had really intended to read, he really had, but instead he found himself staring at the pair on the berth and the sheer _power_ in the Prime's frame that he was so clearly using on such a smaller frame.

It was a little ... concerning. He'd really been hoping for something quite a bit calmer and more efficient.

Even with that thought, Starscream was drawn to that strength and power, enchanted as he always had been with it. He wanted it for himself. He'd have it for himself. Not just that thrusting power that was making him quiver with _want_ , but the strength of the Prime. Even trapped in here, he had opportunities. And he wouldn't hesitate to exploit every single one. 

The two on the berth went at it for joors, all of it devoted to the Prime's spike. Near what Starscream thought had to be the end, Optimus leaned back against a giant mound of pillows with Jazz reclining on his chest. The Prime had one hand on his own spike and the other on Jazz's pelvis, thumb and forefinger stroking, middle fingers pushed into his valve. The silver minibot's visor was blacked out as he pushed and pulled into the fingers. "C'mon, big guy," he gasped. "Gimmie one more, know ya got a little bit more in ya, give it."

Optimus panted as he stroked himself, optics dim as he worked himself up, and Starscream couldn't take his optics of that spike or the effort the Prime was putting into getting this last overload.

The grounder was working hard to prepare himself and Starscream couldn't help but preen a bit with that knowledge.

And then his hand gripped, and jerked up and down in an unsteady rhythm, and his shout mixed with Jazz's as charge surged through them both. The last of his transfluid shot out and mixed with what was already on the minibot's frame, Jazz's own spilled onto his middle as his hips ground onto the thick fingers. 

And then the Prime slipped offline and Jazz collapsed against him, panting. 

"Took you long enough," Starscream snapped, only to realize that neither were paying any attention to him, that he was burning with need and it would be _joors_ before Prime could tend to him.

He scowled and huddled down into the lounge to wait, glaring death at the datapad for the next six joors while the pair on the berth recharged comfortably. He only interrupted his irritated vigil to check on the egg and pick through some treats. He walked back into the berthroom to see Jazz stretching on top of Optimus.

"Ah, good," he said, nodding in approval. "Thank you for your assistance. Go." 

"Bossy thing, aren't ya," Jazz rolled off Optimus's frame and grinned before finishing his stretch. "He won't be up for a few joors yet, and I'm grabbing a shower. Feel free ta snuggle if ya want though."

"I am not here to _snuggle_ ," Starscream said, lifting his chin disdainfully. "It would serve no useful purpose for my eggs." 

"Suit y'self," Jazz said with a shrug as he jumped down off the berth. His armor was fully stained with the Prime's transfluid, and some of his own. He grinned up at Starscream. "Know one thing though, y' couldn'a picked a better mech for it."

Starscream managed to bite back the "of course" that wanted to come out and instead glared at the silver minibot as he sauntered into the washrack to clean up. It left the Seeker to stand in the berthroom, staring at a rather messy and completely unconscious Prime.

He huffed and went to settle himself in on the lounge with the reading, almost but not quite distracting himself from the vivid mental images of Jazz spread out on his back with the Prime pumping into him...

Starscream bit his lower lip. There was something obscene and sickening in being turned on by watching two grounders interface, but his wiring still felt warm. He knew what the Prime's hands could do when they weren't trying to arouse, he imagined that when they _were_ it would just be that much more-- 

He shook his helm sharply. This was for the eggs. He was standing the grounder's touch for his eggs, and nothing else. Not his own pleasure, because to take pleasure from a grounder, to even let a grounder touch him, was unthinkable for any other reason. It was just the carrying code making him crazy. That and almost two decades of abuse. It was the only reason he was aroused by this. He was used to it, acclimated to it. It wasn't because he wanted it. He'd been tortured and traumatized and now even his processors were showing the lingering damage.

All thoughts paused as he heard Optimus begin to rouse. He stood and went over to him, grabbing a cube that Jazz must have left and putting it on the berthside table next to the box of supplement wafers. Then he went around to the other side of the berth as Optimus stretched and climbed onto what was left of the clean bedding and lay down on his back, looking at the grounder.

Optimus scrubbed his face, blinked a few times, and looked at Starscream like he was trying to understand what he was seeing.

"I assume you've had enough time," Starscream said. "I admit I hadn't quite predicted it would take _that_ long but it doesn't matter now, you're online and that was plenty of recharge." He cycled his vents, steadying himself, and spread his thighs open, pulled his valve cover back, and looked at the ceiling. 

Optimus didn't move. 

After a moment, Starscream shot him a sharp look. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"Torrent ... just because this is for the good of the eggs doesn't mean it should not be enjoyable," Optimus said, trying to work himself up to what was a lover who so openly didn't want to be one.

"Well of course not," Starscream said. "Honestly, Prime, I'm not going to try anything. You have nothing to worry about. And I'm pretty sure your Ops mecha would kill me if I hurt you, eggs or no eggs."

"I have no doubt of it, as would the guards outside," Optimus sighed and shifted to trail his fingers up Starscream's cockpit. "Can you at least try to act like you want this, just a little bit? It will be easier to enjoy if you're willing to participate."

Starscream cycled his optics up at him. "I _do_ want this," he said, and gestured down at himself. "Do you see me here, not drugged, not being held down? I think those are pretty clear indications of wanting it. Do you need help getting revved back up?"

"You were staring at the ceiling," Optimus chided him gently and brought his fingers up to caress Starscream's face. "I've never been with a buymecha, nor have I been one. So yes, I need help getting revved up. I need you to be willing to enjoy this with me."

"I..." Starscream's optics flickered in confusion and he pushed himself up onto one elbow. "A _buymecha?_ " he asked. "You said you would help! You said if there was anything the eggs needed to let you know and you'd be happy to help! If you don't want to then just--"

"Torrent," Optimus stopped him with a finger to the confused Seeker's lips. "It was the only comparison I could think of to trying to interface with someone completely detached from what was happening. I am willing to help. I want to help. But as I've been told, I have issues with interfacing when it's not for _mutual_ pleasure. I don't think I can overload if my lover isn't revved up and wanting it too." He paused as a horrified thought crossed his processors. "Please don't tell me you haven't had a lover."

"Of course I've had lovers," Starscream said huffily. "I had my entire flock. I am not inexperienced."

Relief escaped Optimus's frame as he continued to stroke Starscream's cheek. "Then hopefully you understand what it means to be a lover."

"It means interfacing, which you seem strangely reluctant to do," Starscream said and sat up further so he could look up at the grounder better, slipping his hand onto Optimus's arm. Obviously the grounder had some issues that Starscream would need to overcome. "I promise I will enjoy the experience. You looked..." He glanced to the side and bit his lower lip. "... _Strong_ , with Jazz."

"Because he enjoys it that way," Optimus accepted the encouragement and shifted a bit further over Starscream before leaning down for a kiss that was soft and chase while his hand slid down Starscream's frame to circle the valve rim with one finger.

The Seeker's vents hitched, and then a soft x-vent ghosted over Optimus's mouth. On the next circle Starscream tugged at Optimus's arm, trying to guide it to his waist. When Optimus complied, the kiss deepened. If the grounder needed some time and touching to warm up, Starscream could do that. And ... it stood to feel nice, no matter what. He missed being touched. The massages were strut-meltingly blissful, of course, but it was nothing like going into recharge every night after heavy petting and interfacing with a flock. 

Nothing like whatever the grounder was doing with his fingers right now, oh, _Primus._ Starscream's frame arched up as a large, thick finger, nearly the size of most spikes he'd felt, gently pressed into his slick valve and wiggled around, teasing and enticing.

"That's more like it," Optimus rumbled as he rubbed lightly against Starscream's frame while he continued to finger the eager valve.

"Why didn't you just ... _say_ this is what ... you wanted," Starscream said, panting a little as he grabbed onto the grounder's arm to hold himself up. "Could have skipped all that nonsense."

"I tried to," Optimus claimed another kiss as his spike cover slid open and his frame began to heat up.

"I was there, and no you didn't," Starscream said, and hitched a leg over Optimus's. "It would have sounded like this..." He cleared out his vocalizer and then pitched his voice in a playful imitation of Optimus's while slipping his hand onto the grounder's spike cover. "'I need foreplay to get going.'"

Any answer Optimus was inclined to give was lost to the moan of pleasure and slide of his spike into those exploring fingers. He silenced anything Starscream was planning to add with a kiss as they worked each other to full pressure and halfway to an overload around two large fingers.

Starscream pushed and ground, moving his hips in rhythm with Optimus's hand, and realized at some point he'd rolled to his back. Optimus was over him, spike jutting out proudly and rubbing against his pelvis. Starscream had both hands on it, and the girth and weight made his valve clench. 

How the pit had the minibot taken this so easily? 

He tilted his hips up, away from Optimus's hand, and rubbed against his spike. He _wanted_ it. Wanted that strength for his creations.

The Prime nodded and shifted. His hand moved away and to the berth to brace himself as he slowly pressed the tip against Starscream's valve rim. The penetration was incredibly slow, careful and made in tiny rocking thrusts that spread Starscream exquisitely wide gradually enough that there was nothing but pleasure involved.

It felt like forever, and Starscream was panting and certain that he'd never been spread this far open in his life when he felt Optimus still over him. He forced his optics to focus up. "In?" he asked, fans straining. 

"About half," Optimus said, and gave a slight smile at the Seeker's shocked look. "Is there discomfort?" 

"No," Starscream said, and pushed up a little further onto him. "I want the rest."

Optimus kissed him again, a little more passionately than before, and continued to work his way into his new lover. This time he didn't hold his field in check when he was touching. He let it show how good this felt, how much he wanted it to feel just as good to his lover.

They were both trembling and on the edge when he was finally fully seated inside, and he stilled again. "Still good?"

"Yes," Starscream said, optics dimmed and unfocused, his grip on Optimus's chest tight. "Really good." Nothing at all like the other grounders. 

Some dim part of his awareness flickered in protest--interfacing with a _grounder_ \--but he'd already been defiled. This frame would serve to bring strong life into the world, and he would do what he had to for it. At least this grounder found _Starscream's_ pleasure at least as important as his own. It would make this so much easier to endure.

But how in the _pit_ did that minibot take this spike in so easily!

All thought was wiped from Starscream when Optimus pulled his hips back, nearly clearing the valve rim, and pushed forward. It was another slow filling, but in a single smooth motion this time.

The groan it pulled from him was deep, lust-filled, and his entire frame arched into it. Words failed him, and it became all he could do to hold on as the pace slowly increased. Nothing like the grounders who had rutted into his frame like mechanimals, Optimus was careful and precise. 

But the difference in size was apparently just as intense for him as it was for Starscream, because it wasn't long before his arms were shaking, his legs trembling with the effort of holding steady.

"Give..." Starscream gasped out, wanting that transfluid rushing into him to strengthen his eggs even more than he wanted the pleasure it would bring.

With a shaky nod Optimus shifted his angle just a bit and plunged inward, a quarter strength thrust to what he'd given Jazz but far stronger than what he'd done with Starscream yet. He pulled halfway out and let out a long, low moan as he plunged back in to grind their arrays together, hot transfluid rushing to fill every crevasse inside his lover.

The first moment was _bliss_ , but when the heat hit the back of his valve to be taken up by his frame for material and nutrient, the strange and unique sensation was suddenly the one he could feel. 

The first time he'd felt it, he'd been drugged and struggling while his grunting rapist overloaded into his valve. Sometimes on his front with his aft yanked into the air, most of the time had been just like this, on his back, beneath the larger sires known to produce bigger clutches of larger eggs. 

He shrieked and tore at the grounder's front. His nest--he needed to protect his nest from the grounders!

A sound of pain from above rewarded him, and suddenly there was a shout he couldn't identify but wasn't the big grounder, and he was pinned, wrists by his helm and the one above him was rumbling at the third.

"Torrent?" The grounder's voice was deep, calm rumble of concern.

Starscream's vents heaved with effort and panic and he jerked against the hold, hissing and spitting curses. Sharp, sickening waves of fear lurched through his field and he looked desperately in the direction of his nest--

Wasn't there. His nest wasn't there, because he wasn't in the cell. Vertigo came next as he reoriented and stared up. "Please get off," he said, voice tight and shaking. He was both gratified and surprised at how quickly the big mech could move, and his valve made a very strong protest to the absence of that incredible spike that was decidedly not one of Starscream's concerns in the moment.

"Flashback?" Optimus wasn't really guessing and Starscream could hear it in his voice as he sat on his pedes next to the still-panting Seeker.

"Yes," Starscream muttered, rolling onto his side away from him, and coming face to face with the silver minibot. He startled and scrambled up, then hissed.

"He was leaving," Optimus insisted firmly, earning a defiant look from Jazz, which he chose to ignore to focus on carefully touching Starscream's arm "Would you like me to bring you to overload, or is that too much now?"

Starscream cast a baleful look at Jazz as he slipped away after the Prime ignored him, then sagged and turned his attention back to his frame. His valve was aching and empty, cycling, dripping. "Not too much," he said, and tipped his head to the side. "Not on my back." 

Optimus nodded and settled on his back a bit down from the large, elaborate headboard. "Come kneel over me then. Let me taste your pleasure."

Starscream's wings hitched up in surprise as his engines roared at just how erotic that sounded. He'd come in here expecting quick fragging, not _that_. 

"I have a clutchmate who loves doing that," he said as he crawled forward and swung a leg over Optimus. "I--" Optimus's glossa pressed up, and the rest of his words were lost in a moan at the surge of pleasure from the nimble appendage as it swirled around the slick, sensitive opening, then plunged in to lap at the walls so very eagerly. He cried out and fell forward, catching himself on one arm and grabbing the top of Optimus's helm with the other. His legs tightened around the Prime, helping him rock. He was close, _so_ close, wanted it, wanted just a little more, a little deeper. 

The swirling glossa obliged completely and his valve tightened down around it. " _Frag_ ," he gasped. "Frag, frag, oh-- _frag!_ " He overloaded with a shout, legs trembling, grinding against the Prime's glossa until the charge finished skittering across his plating. It left him panting, marveling at how incredibly _good_ an overload triggered by another felt.

Toys and fingers had _nothing_ on a focused lover.

It had been so long. 

He slumped, frame feeling unwilling to move from that spot as he tried to recover enough to at least flop to the side. Once he managed that, he curled, rubbing the heel of his hand against his valve massaging out the rest of the fading sensations. 

Optimus reached for him, just a light hand on his arm. "Would you like more, or is that enough for one evening?"

"That is _plenty_ for one evening," Starscream said, looking up at him. "I still want them to be able to _fly_ when it's all said and done."

"Then I will see you in the morning for more?" Optimus asked, uncertain but also a little hopeful. "Or will it be less often?"

"They are a bit behind," Starscream mused as he closed everything up and wiped his hand on the stained covers. They would both need a wash. "Once in the morning, once in the evening?"

"As much, or as little, as you wish. I will consider them my creations regardless," Optimus promised as he leaned on his side to kiss the Seeker. "Wash off together?"

But Starscream jerked back with narrowed optics. "They are not _your_ creations," he snarled, gratified when the larger mech backed away. "You have no legal rights to them, no say in their upbringing, and if you try to take them I swear I will tear you apart. They are _mine._ "

"I understand," Optimus promised despite the hurt. "I did not mean to lessen your claim or control," he added quietly. "Only that I would protect them as my own."

Starscream watched him warily. "If this is going to be a problem for you, I can find someone else," he said, trying to force his wings into a calmer cant. "I won't hold it against you. But accepting your help is not the same thing as giving you any kind of claim. You need to understand that now."

"I understand," Optimus repeated more steadily. "I am not making a legal claim. Not even a social one. Yet in my spark they are _ours_ , even if I never speak of it again. I will protect them as my own."

"They shouldn't even be _mine_ ," Starscream said, frowning, as he tried to think of a way to explain it to the ignorant grounder. "A Vision having creations out of a trine, it's--it's--" He waved his hand aimlessly. "It doesn't _happen._ They have no sire-Order to claim them."

"I am sorry you, and they, are in this situation," Optimus murmured softly. "I will do all I can to help them overcome the disadvantage they'll have."

"You can try," Starscream said, before he crawled off the berth and left. 

* * *

Starscream sat contentedly in the Prime's lap, enjoying the heat from the red coals behind him, the idle petting on his wings, the spike stretching his valve, the solid frame beneath him. Optimus was still panting a little and Starscream was purring, happy to drift off into recharge right there. He wondered if Optimus would stay hard the entire time, so when he booted he could just rock a little... 

"What is the difference between a trine and a flock?" 

Starscream was jarred out of the fantasy by the hideous accent on the Vosian glyphs. He looked up. "What?" 

"What is the difference between a trine and a flock," Optimus repeated, and he sounded so earnest that Starscream couldn't believe it was a trick. 

"Trine are the two Seekers you are closest to. Flock are those you are related to by creation, trine or mating," Starscream said as he settled back into enjoying the physical sensations.

"So your trine is your two mates," Optimus said. "What is it called when you only have one mate?" 

"Ugh, no, it's very rare for trine to also be mates. Trine is trine. Mates are mates. A strong flock relies on mate-bonds between trines," Starscream corrected him. "You breed with trine. You live with trine. You interface with trine. You aren't mates with trine. If you only have one trinemate, then you're without trine and looking for your third. Only one mate is common enough."

Optimus's hand paused in its rubbing. Starscream growled and he chuckled and started again and the Seeker quieted. "Why trine _and_ mates, though?" he asked. "Why not just mates? You can interface with mates, and I assume you can breed with them."

"Mates come and go. Tines are the foundation of society," Starscream tried to explain something he'd never given a moment's thought to. "It's how Seeker society is structured."

"Trines are for life?" 

"Yes," Starscream said, then the need to be fully accurate made him roll his optics. "Well, mostly. Trines can break. But it would be _trauma._ And something awful would have to happen first." 

Optimus nodded slowly. "How do you find your trine?"

"You socialize, then court or are courted by interested parties," Starscream shrugged. "I never really got into that part of things. I wanted an education, not a trine."

"You can't have both?" Optimus asked with a chuckle. "That would lead to an incredibly uneducated society." 

Starscream huffed. "Orders, the trine leaders, get plenty of education if they want it. Actions can to. It's ones like me, Vision, who are relegated to the nest."

"Full access to education should be an equal right," Optimus murmured, frowning. "Are there consequences for Visions seeking education? Is that why you went came to Cybertron?"

"Just social ones. Lack of support, being considered strange. There aren't any good positions to use a science degree if you're a Vision. No one will hire you," Starscream hissed. "So yes, I'd rather deal with racial prejudic than what I get from my own kind."

Optimus sighed. "I'd rather you didn't have to deal with racial prejudice at all," he murmured. "I'm trying to change it, but society doesn't want to move at the same speed as I do."

"It never does," Starscream smiled faintly at the first serious connection he had with this powerful grounder. They were both revolutionaries of a kind. "Those with power never want to give it up."

Optimus nuzzled the top of his helm. "I would," he said. "But I wouldn't be able to change much without it." He hummed deeply and the sound rumbled through Starscream's entire frame. "Maybe some orn you can be the champion for your own people."

"Perhaps," Starscream murmured, not entirely sure he wanted to. "How did you become Prime if you don't want power?"

The Prime's petting stilled, but this time his teek changed and Starscream didn't growl, but looked up instead. 

"Quite by accident, as it turns out," Optimus murmured after a moment. "The Matrix is taken around Cybertron after a Prime's death. Legend says it can sense its bearer of all the mecha on the planet, and when it's close to its choice it will go to them. But it can be placed into anyone's spark, and before me, bearers were chosen for it. But something went wrong, and this time, it chose me."

"Went wrong?" Starscream repeated, them hummed. "I think it finally went right. You're the first time in a very, very long time to actually _do_ something about the evils on Cybertron."

Optimus chuckled. "Went wrong for those who wanted to be in control of the next Prime. I'm glad you think so." He started rubbing Starscream's wings again. "I want to make it a safe planet for your kin. I knew that right from the start."

"How are you going to get rid of the demand? That's what drives the ones you haven't caught." Starscream asked quietly.

"Slowly," Optimus sighed. "Stopping the suppliers is only part of it. Making the general population see you as _sentient_ and _equal_ is more important."

"It's not the general population that eats eggs," Starscream pointed out. "It's the nobles and politicians."

"Because they don't believe they are taking worthwhile life," Optimus said. "Many of them are not evil mecha. They just ... the law has supported them, for a very long time. That attitude has gone beyond nobility, and they live in a world that supports them, even if the law no longer does. The masses must be moved for change to really, truly occur."

"I suppose," Starscream consented, though he wasn't at all content with the answer. "Did you really strip citizenship, _personhood_ from the nobles who are caught with eggs?"

"Yes," Optimus said sadly. "They know the law and they know the consequences. They have been given ample opportunity to learn and change their ways."

"How many have been executed?" Starscream asked.

Optimus x-vented and shuttered his optics. "Five," he murmured. "Those who have demonstrated clear knowledge of the extent of their crimes. The ones who realize the eggs are alive, become mecha, and who don't care. The rest have been imprisoned."

Starscream quivered with a mixture of pleasure and disappointment. "What's the point of imprisoning them?"

"What would you have me do?" Optimus asked. "They have no rights, they will never be freed." 

"Unless the next Prime pardons them. Even if that doesn't happen, they are nothing but a drain. They giving _nothing_ and only take. Unless the punishment is about forcing them to sit and do nothing, execute them. Send them back to Primus. That's where you believe sparks go, right? Back to Primus."

Optimus sighed heavily. "Yes, that is where I believe sparks go. There ... has been talk of removing them from their frames. Or giving them the choice."

"Or ... you know, you could tell your black and silver twins to deal with such mecha and not tell you until it's long over with..." Starscream suggested.

Optimus shuddered and didn't say anything. "Even those who didn't realize what they were consuming?" he asked.

"I want them all dead, but I'd settle for just letting those two deal with those who are convicted by your standards. That knowingly ignoring the law and knowing what they were doing bit." Starscream surprised himself by moderating his view without actually thinking he should.

Optimus nodded and rubbed Starscream's back. "There is no easy solution," he said. "Wishing I could fix everything does little good."

"That," Starscream said, "We can agree upon." 

* * *

Starscream groaned and pushed up against the spike lodged between his legs. The Prime was kneeling on the berth, aft-on-pedes, with Starscream tugged up into his lap. Normally, this position was one of his favorites. Right now... 

He gave another roll of his hips, felt almost no response from the grounder, and stopped, glaring up at him. The Prime didn't seem to notice. 

Well there was only so much Starscream was willing to be ignored. And in berth was not one of those times. "Hey!" he snapped.

Warm blue optics snapped to focus on him. "I'm sorry," Optimus apologized and rolled his hips upward.

Starscream huffed his approval of the motion and settled back into it, but it was only a few kliks before it slowed and all but stopped again. He stopped, rolled his optics, and abruptly lifted his hips off the spike and flopped back onto the berth. "Well I know _I_ can think of more exciting places to be right now," he said. "What's wrong with you?"

"Politics," Optimus groaned. "While I approve of scientific study and research for the sake of _knowledge_ , the Imperial Scientific Studies Council is deadlocked and I am the one who has to cast the deciding vote."

"So cast it," Starscream said, staring at him.

Optimus stared right back. "I will not cast a vote without understanding what's actually at stake. What I am voting for and against. I've read it all and still don't understand the argument they're having."

Starscream groaned. "I'm not going to get a proper frag until you stop thinking about this am I?" he said, and looked critically up and down the Prime's frame. "You can put that away," he said as he sat up, waving at the thick spike. "Weren't doing anything with it anyway. Got documents or files or anything?"

Though he was as bewildered as he looked, Optimus retracted his spike and walked to his office. Starscream rolled onto his front and stretched. "I'll take something sweet when you come back, too," he called as he settled in comfortably. He watched the door, not at all surprised it look less than a klik for Optimus to return, and accepted the full variety box of sweets along with several datapads.

Without a word but watching Starscream with curious, interested optics, Optimus settled on the berth nearby.

Starscream swiped his fingers over the first one and glanced at the size of the document, and then realized that he was going to be reading for quite some time. "Well," he said, and started in on the case summary. 

Two departments wanted to study properties of the same limited and controlled substance. Each had grants that would end when the vorn did, and each had submitted proposals for the full quantity. More wouldn't be manufactured for another decade. 

Starscream rubbed his helm when he finished with the summary. "You can rub my wings if you're bored," he said, and grabbed for the next datapad in the stack and another treat. Optimus was quite willing to comply with the request, and recognized it for what it was.

For himself, the Prime was enjoying watching Starscream in full intellectual mode and the little noises he made.

It took him over a joor, but Starscream poured through all the documents, arguments, testimonials about how this research or that stood to most aid the general public, barely noticing the time going by. "Well I can see the problem," he said. "They each need to use a controlled resource, but the testing renders it nonviable for future use." He glanced over his shoulders. "Did any of the chemists explain all this to you?"

"They probably tried," Optimus admitted. "I was an archivist. I know a great deal of trivia and structure that is useful as a Prime, but science in this pure a form was and still is beyond me."

"All right," Starscream said, and patted the berth next to him as he pulled up a blank workpad on the screen and started to sketch. Optimus settled next to him, looking down at what he was doing. "So pay attention, because I'm only explaining this once," Starscream told him, and then launched into a full lesson about the energy resources that the departments were fighting about, why they couldn't share it for their work, and how the compound would change and be rendered nonviable. He paused for questions and to make sure that the Prime was still following a few times, nodding absently as he listened to the answers. "Now, here's the thing," he finally said. " _This_ department--" He picked up a datapad, "--needs to freeze it, there's no question about that. That's the only way to create the proper reaction and breakdown. But _this_ department could still use the final product, and it might actually be more efficient, because even though the compound has changed, it's in a way that might actually increase its efficiency. It just needs to be frozen at a controlled and exact temperature and speed, which their original outline did not propose."

Optimus processed that for a moment, then took a datapad and made a few notations on it before showing Starscream. "So if the first proposal is changed to include these specifics, and they work in this order, both can do their experiments?"

"Yes, exactly," Starscream said. 

"Thank you," Optimus said warmly as he leaned over to kiss the Seeker with chaste but heated contact as he set the datapads aside. "Now, how can I thank you properly?"

"I can think of a few ways," Starscream said, very matter-of-factly, and stretched back, lifting his aft into the air. "Starting with that fragging I came over here for."

"As much as you wish," Optimus rumbled. The regular pleasure was addicting, and so was Starscream's enthusiasm once they'd figured out what would and wouldn't set off flashbacks. He rubbed his hands along the aft, fingertips just barely daring to caress the edge of the abdominal bulge that contained the three eggs that he thought of as his own creations, even if he would never say it out loud again.

Starscream sighed with pleasure and stretched his arms forward, sinking fingers into the padding as he rocked lightly. Even if this was just for his eggs, it was nice. He was definitely going to miss it once they released.

* * *

Optimus Prime was in his private garden, a space reserved for the Prime and his court, which at this stage was only him, and nominally Jazz and Starscream. Jazz had no problem dropping in. Starscream hadn't been given the option, but as Optimus walked around, he came to realize that as large as the space was -- and it made his Residence seem small -- it was also completely contained.

Just how many mecha were employed to keep this incredible vista with its crystals, statuary, benches and paths in such perfect condition? All for a single mecha.

Too many, he was sure. But at least he knew they were paid well. 

He looked around at the high walls, pondering, when a quicksilver shadow caught his gaze. "Hello Jazz," he rumbled, smiling. 

"Heya, boss bot," Jazz grinned and walked up to him. "How's existence?"

"Existence, is it?" Optimus asked with a chuckle as they fell into step. He shortened his paces and slowed his walk so as to not completely outpace the minibot, even though he knew Jazz would have no trouble keeping up. "Hesitantly, and with the greatest awareness that this may change at any moment, existence is pleasant."

"Glad ta hear that," Jazz's grin was infectiously bright and his field genuinely joyful at the news. "Ya know the ISSC wasn't just stunned but both sides quite happy with the modified proposal you presented. I didn't know ya had enough background to understand all that gibberish."

"I don't," Optimus said easily, not at all afraid to admit that truth. "I wasted orns trying to understand it and only ended up giving myself a processor ache. The modifications were Torrent's."

"He's got talent, boss. Serious talent. Not just the smarts for science, but for at least this kind of politics," Jazz said seriously. "You've done really well if he likes ya enough ta help you out that well."

"Well," Optimus said with a sheepish shrug. "That particular instance I couldn't concentrate on interfacing for more than two kliks and he finally got fed up with it. But you're right. He would be an invaluable resource if he chose to be. If I didn't know how badly he wants to go home..." He trailed off. He wasn't sure _what_ he would do, only that he would find something.

"Time will tell, but I havta tell ya, that he gave you an all-win best solution wasn't the fastest way to get you back ta 'facing. Seriously, he could have skimmed it, picked one and given you some babble about why it was the best choice," Jazz pointed out. "He gave you the best answer, even if he won't admit it, cause he likes ya. It's a good thing. I think he's enjoying all that info ya let him have too. I mean, _really_ groovin' on it."

Optimus's spark gave a pleased flutter in his chest. "I just wish I could give him more of the things he wants," he said. "Freedom, the sky. How are his creations supposed to learn about their kin and their wings if we trap them?"

"I don't have any great answers, but I've got a few ideas, if ya want to hear'm," Jazz offered.

"Of course I do," Optimus gave an elegant sensor horn a tweak, just as he had as Orion.

"Well, the best one is ta get Torrent loyal enough to ya that he's safe to let move freely. You're doing a good job so far, even if that isn't your intent," Jazz began. "For the shorter term, it's kinda ugly, but we could rig him either ta only have a few breems of fuel and a tracer, or something of the like. He couldn't fly long, but he could fly."

Optimus sighed and nodded. "I refuse to emotionally manipulate any creature into loyalty," he said. "If he comes on his own to feel a sense of loyalty, I will nurture that, but I have already made my thoughts on the matter very clear." He waited for the understanding head bob from the little mech before continuing. "I will propose your idea to him, when the need arises. I don't see that we have much choice at the moment."

"It's the best I've come up with for ya," Jazz's tone made it an apology. "How attached are y' ta those eggs he's carrying?" he asked cautiously. "Feel different about them, compared to the one y' aren't helping form?"

"I feel protective of them," Optimus said. "And I can't help but feel responsibility for their welfare. Is it more for those he is carrying?" He pondered the question for a while. "No," he finally decided. "In my spark, I cannot help but see them as a small piece of me, but my concern for all four is equal."

"It's good ta know," Jazz said quietly, his own thoughts on it less clear. "How's Torrent taking to the idea of Prime as a co-creator?"

"He sees me no more a co-creator than he did his rapists," Optimus murmured. "The only difference is he chooses my contribution."

"And I think he enjoys your company more. He does hang out with you a lot more than he has to," Jazz smiled. "He'd probably be around more if it wasn't for that whole 'must guard egg' thing he has going."

"It does seem to be an overwhelming instinct," Optimus agreed. "As for the rest of it ... we will see what happens when I am no longer necessary for the health of his creations. Now, enough about me." He fixed Jazz with a hard look. "What, precisely, have you done to my tactician?"

"I wish I knew," Jazz shrugged, but there was a flicker of concern in his field. "I stopped teasing'im after the raid. He was miserable for a while, then just...." he threw up his hands for lack of a description he was willing to vocalize. "Wasn't me, whatever it was."

"Your designation is the only thing I have unearthed while trying to figure out what went wrong with him," Optimus rumbled. "Whatever it is, I want you to fix it, even if it wasn't you. As far as I'm concerned, his processors are an invaluable resource."

Jazz opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and simply nodded his acceptance of the order.

"If you have something to say, now would be a good time," Optimus warned him. 

"It ... it's not his processors that are gone," Jazz got out. "It's _him_. That's what a sparked AI looks, teeks like. Originally thought he'd been replaced, but he hasn't been. He ... did that to himself by all reports."

"What would drive him to such an extreme?" Optimus asked, deep concern in his field. "Do you think he is under too much pressure? I know it's more than he had at Praxus but I thought him capable." 

Jazz sort of shrugged. "Most mecha who try something like that are hurting too much to cope but can't off themselves. Loss of a bondmate tops the list of why. His medical file confirms his spark's never been bonded though. Whatever it is, he probably lost all hope of having anything worth living for. Just don't have a clue why. Not getting much from the AI either. Just tells me I'm not authorized again and again."

Optimus sighed. "Well, keep me apprised, and let me know if you figure out something I can do to help. This is a low priority, but still an assignment."

"Right, boss," Jazz nodded. "So, you planning to let Torrent come out here?"

"I hope so," Optimus said with a smile, looking up at the twin moons hanging in the sky. "I think it would do him good."

"Just make sure his thrusters are disabled or he'll go straight up," Jazz cautioned. "Agreed though, it'd help."

Optimus hummed. "Join me?" he asked, switching direction to head towards one of the many secluded lounges tucked behind crystals and waterfalls. "It has been far too long."

"Delighted to," Jazz trilled, his frame already heating in anticipation.

* * *

Starscream tucked Cirrus's egg into its hiding place, covered it with a blanket, and pulled the snare in around it before grabbing the small box and making his way out of the nest. He was nervous, and wrestling with himself, and stopped twice on the way to Optimus's chambers as he tried to come to terms with returning a gift. 

The grounder obviously didn't know that he was engaging in courting rituals, so there was little risk, but it didn't stop Starscream from knowing that he was returning the gesture. To a _grounder._

He'd well and truly lost his grip on sanity and reality, and yet this _grounder_ treated him better than any courting Seeker. Respected his desire for knowledge. Listened to him when he knew what was going on. Touched to please him. If Optimus was a Seeker, or even _any_ flight frame there would be no question about trining or mating to him.

But he was a grounder, and that made all the difference.

But, it wasn't as though he was losing anything by interfacing with him. The rapists and thieves had already seen to that particular defiling. 

But that had been forced upon him. This, he was doing to himself. 

He was so lost in thought that he found himself quite suddenly at Optimus's berth, looking right at the lounging mech. He silently held the box out.

"Thank you," Optimus accepted the offering, his fingers lingering on Starscream's as he took the box and opened it.

It contained a selection of treats, organized by color and flavor, and every single one Optimus counted among his favorites. He smiled warmly at the Seeker, who was watching silently, and looked tense. "I will enjoy these very much," he said. 

Starscream shrugged and glanced away. "Figured you might actually want something in return."

"I appreciate it, Torrent," Optimus rumbled as he enjoyed one of the treats. "Will you join me?"

"That _is_ why I am here," Starscream said, crawling onto the berth. He settled cross-legged near the Prime's legs, head tilted as he watched the grounder accept the courting gift with no hesitation. 

Prime was strong, and would see to it that his creations were protected. He might need that. He had no doubt that his flock--traditional even by Vosian standards--would welcome him and all four of the seekerlings back into their fold, but there was no way of telling how the hybrids would be treated by others as they aged.

Optimus selected a jelly and offered it to Starscream's lips with a hopeful smile. Wings flicked up, startled, but Starscream opened his mouth to accept. Maybe the grounder _did_ know what he was doing. 

But that was an insane thought, because then they both knew what they were doing and Starscream was doing this with a grounder which was stretching the limits of sanity as it was and the only way to permit himself was to believe that the Prime was none the wiser and... and...

Optimus's thumb brushed over his lower lip and he melted, optics dimming as he licked the fingertip. The treat dissolved against his glossa and filled his mouth with _sweet._

"I very much like that look on you," Optimus purred with a deep rumble that made Starscream's entire frame tingle. Dim red optics watched Optimus select a treat for himself, than another for Starscream, offering it in much the same way.

Instead of accepting, Starscream shifted forward, pushing the Prime's hand up until it was near his own mouth, and then took the treat and pressed in for a kiss. He slipped his glossa forward to give the Prime a taste as the candy melted. Optimus hummed and kissed back and Starscream carefully took his lower lip between his denta, then bit down. Not hard enough to damage, but the thin metal would dent and hopefully be a little sore for the next orn.

A surprised sound escaped the grounder as his optics brightened and he froze, trying to process what this was about. When it went no further than a nip, he relaxed and finished the kiss while his hands wondered the Seeker's frame.

Starscream pushed at his shoulders until he laid back and climbed over him. He settled into a straddle over the grounder's chest and pressed for another kiss, encouraging Optimus's hands with his own. 

Frag, he really was fond of the grounder.

A deep moan escaped Starscream as that large spike he'd grown so fond of enjoying rubbed against his valve cover while large blue hands stroked his wings and his mouth was occupied with a hot, hungry kiss.

He slid his cover back and rubbed against the tip, wanting to sink back and take the entire length, but not ready to leave the kiss, not quite yet. He settled for reaching back and slipping his fingers over the head, caressing it as he nipped again.

"You're in a biting mood today," Optimus rumbled, not exactly disapproving but not approving either.

Starscream paused, then pulled back with a frown. "And you are clearly not enjoying it," he said.

"No, I do not find pain enjoyable. You do?" Optimus asked, somewhere between uneasy and concerned.

Starscream regarded him, then nuzzled into a kiss. "You've never just lost yourself so completely that you can't even control it?" he purred, and dragged light claws down Optimus's arms. At the very end he sank in, just for a second, hard enough to prick. "Driven your partner so wild that they can't either?"

"No," Optimus held very still, decidedly uncomfortable with where he thought this was headed. "It is not something I aspire to either. I find no pleasure in pain. I find even less in the idea of breaking a being I am trying to bring pleasure to."

Starscream stopped, then huffed, then shrugged. "Fine," he said, and slid back, sinking onto Optimus's spike. The grounder was quiet, and Starscream focused on driving him to overload, and left when it was over.

* * *

Starscream came back the next afternoon with another box of treats, finding Optimus in much the same position he'd been in before, and climbed onto the berth, handing it over silently. 

"Thank you," Optimus said as he accepted the box, selected one for himself and offered one to Starscream's lip plates, though there was a tenseness to him that hadn't been there before. The Seeker still accepted, though, and he relaxed somewhat. 

"Being egg-heavy has mellowed me," Starscream said after he swallowed. "I feel it is important for you to understand that. Once my clutch has released, I will not be so easily settled."

Optimus mouth opened slightly with surprise, but he nodded and selected a jelly to offer Starscream next. "Then we will need to have a discussion of just what you expect of me at that point."

"I expect nothing from you," Starscream said, accepting the treat but not eating it. "Other than to understand that sometimes I will not be able to refrain from being rough with you." He paused, then quickly added, "If we continue."

"I understand," Optimus relaxed a bit. "I am agreeable so long as you can understand that I am unlikely to enjoy or return it."

"I will try to refrain from ruining your finish _too_ often," Starscream said, before he slipped the treat into his mouth and leaned forward. "Follow me," he purred, then slipped away. 

Optimus watched for a moment, enjoying the view of his wings before he got up and headed after. 

Starscream led him to the door to his nest and opened it. Optimus looked in. "It looks ... different," he said. 

"I'm close to laying," Starscream said. "Which means you will have to come to me now. As such, I've made some alterations so you can fit."

Optimus drew in a sharp intake, then reached out to pull Starscream to him by the back of the neck and kissed him soundly. He got a surprised sound that quickly faded into a moan before he drew away. "Does this mean I can recharge with you as well?"

Starscream appeared to mull the question over for quite some time, rocking on his pedes. "I suppose," he finally said, then gestured for Optimus to follow. "Do everything I do, _exactly,_ " he said, slipping into the tangle. Somewhat to his surprise, the Prime actually did so with far more accuracy than was even needed. The big mech kept his pedes, hands, even helm level and his frame was a flawless copy of the smaller, sleeker one ahead of him as they worked their way through the tangle. They stepped into the inner nest and he straightened, looking around at the collection of blankets, padding, pillows, and lounge cushions. It was centered on the window and tucked into the far corner from the door, and he could see where Starscream recharged. 

The Seeker immediate went for an inconspicuous looking part of the tangle and used his claws to _snick_ open a snare, and pulled his egg out from the blanket nestled inside. He trilled to it and pet it, checking it all over for damage, then looked back at the grounder who was keeping a respectful distance and stance as he watched with a goofy, pleased smile.

"You're ridiculous," Starscream said, then moved over near the window and sat down, patting the ground next to him. 

Optimus joined him, still with at goofy grin, and carefully leaned towards Starscream to make contact. "Your egg is beautiful. So full of life."

Starscream hesitated, then slowly held the egg out for Optimus to touch. "I think it might not be strong enough," he murmured. "But I've never seen eggs in a nest before, I don't know if they're supposed to get brighter, or..." He trailed off, wings lowering. "Cirrus was old, and very weak. If this wasn't the last egg he was capable of creating, it was close."

Optimus slid a supportive arm around Starscream's back while he very gently caressed the egg with his other hand. "I know even less than you do about eggs, but his spark _feels_ strong. Not at all like one that will fade soon."

Starscream nodded and pulled the egg back to his chest and nuzzled it. "I hope so," he said, and Optimus watched in fascination as the contents of the egg shifted, and the shape of a tiny hand pressed against the other side of the shell. Starscream touched it with a single fingertip, then looked up at Optimus. "Tomorrow, would you join me to grind the deactivated spark chambers?"

"I would be honored, Torrent," Optimus tipped the charcoal face up for a tender kiss. "Would it be better done under and open sky?" he motioned slightly towards the expansive garden outside Starscream's window.

"You can do that?" Starscream asked, voice tight and shaking with _want_. 

"I may have to ask you to agree to have your thrusters disabled, but yes, we can go out into the garden," Optimus nodded, every bit as serious as Starscream's desire deserved. "Not just for the funeral, but other times as well."

"Yes, please," Starscream said. "Whatever I have to do, anything." 

Letting a grounder disable his thrusters. 

_Shameful._

Starscream set his egg carefully out of the way near the window, and pulled Optimus over him. " _Anything._ "

Optimus leaned down and carefully kiss Starscream, keenly aware that the position could make the Seeker uncomfortable with little warning and made a choice. "Then let's go," he murmured between barely parted lip plates. "Now. You've trusted me with your _nest_. The least I can do is trust you not to fly away."

Starscream froze, then shook, then scrambled out from beneath the grounder and grabbed his egg, rushing to tuck it back into its hidden spot, then turned around with high, eager wings.

"Lead the way out," Optimus smiled warmly at him, thrilled to see the eagerness. He followed the hurrying Seeker easily and once they were in the hallway he showed Starscream to an exit he hadn't found yet, another set of double doors that pushed open easily for the Prime to a grand crystal and sculpture garden even larger than the Residence.

A single glance about showed groves and lounges, a fountain, bioluminescent pathways. All luxurious, all beautiful. 

Most of all, though, there was a breeze, and unfiltered sunlight.

Starscream's thrusters warmed immediately and he took two steps forward, then ran forward into the middle and spun, arms out, helm thrown back. He could see the moons hanging in the sky, dim in the fading daylight but still visible, and he stilled, _longing._

Home. 

But Optimus couldn't follow him, and he couldn't leave his egg. He probably couldn't even fly that far as egg heavy as he was. He sank to the ground, head tilted back. " _Sky,_ " he breathed.

Optimus came close and knelt by him to stroke a wing, happy at the reaction, the pleasure and relief rolling off the Seeker in the glittering dusk light and felt more content here than he ever had. Not even Jazz made him appreciate this place as well as this moment. "I will try to keep that door unlocked for you."

"You think your demon twins are going to allow that?" Starscream asked, leaning against him. 

"Not happily, but I can try to get them to see reason." Optimus slid an arm lightly around Starscream. "At a minimum I can ensure you can come out here any time that I am around. I'm sorry I did not think of this much earlier."

Starscream nodded and hummed and fell silent, basking. 

Sky, finally _sky._

Optimus sat with him, looking up at the sun as it sank below the walls, then the horizon to leave the garden lit only by luminescent crystals and light-producing mecha-insects. The lack of light made the stars and moons all the more visible and they both relaxed on the ground, staring up and simply enjoying the quiet and the company.

It was just after dawn when Starscream twitched for the first time in joors, tilting his head to look at Optimus. "I swear if you don't frag me before we go inside you are the most moronic grounder I've ever met."

"I did suggest we come out here to frag," Optimus chuckled and tipped Starscream's face up for a kiss before he lounged back. "Specifically for you to ride my spike."

"Good, you still have some sense about you," Starscream said, following after and climbing over him. As he settled onto the grounder's spike, his wings canted up, leveling themselves with the sky. He rocked and shuddered, feeling nothing but open air above him, and _screamed_ when he overloaded.

* * *

Starscream had been shocked when he'd found out just how many spark chambers he would have to grind. More than a single night's worth. Each chamber had its own clear crystal box of fine quality, just large enough for the powdered remains to be contained within and carved with an exacting replica of the Seeker's visage. Where colors were known, Starscream was quietly pleased to find that they'd been included. When it wasn't known, it was carved to look like a purposeful lack of color. Every optic looked live, the expressions were generally neutral but very much alive as well.

Those who'd created these on behest of the Prime had done exquisite work, and it eased Starscream's spark a little as he ground, poured and sealed each chamber into its box under the stars in the grand garden. At his side, a silent support, Optimus sat on the ground and watched with a calm serenity that helped Starscream as well. The big mech didn't care that his finish was being scuffed, or that the position wasn't comfortable to hold all night. He sat there, watching, quiet, supportive, and Starscream found himself soaking it in.

Three nights.

Three solid nights of work, and finally he was down to the ones he knew the designations of.

His first trine and a single chamber to represent the hundreds upon hundreds of eggs that had been torn from the three of them.

He couldn't keep his hands from shaking as he lifted Cirrus's chamber, Cirrus who had been so close to freedom, who might have lived long enough to see his last creation know freedom and life. "I wish he could have known his egg's fate," he said, placing it into the mortar.

"Primus will be sure he knows," Optimus said softly. "It is a small comfort for the living, but it is what we have."

Starscream nodded as he took the pestle and started to break the chamber apart. "He has living creations, I think. He was taken on a vacation to celebrate with his trine. They were probably killed. I'm going to find his creations and his flock, when I can."

"I hope to return all of them to their kin," Optimus said solemnly. "When politics allow it, the flocks will know. They deserve to know."

"I won't wait forever," Starscream said.

"I know," Optimus said softly. "I hope it becomes politically viable before you reach that point."

Starscream nodded. He wouldn't hesitate to fight his way out, and the Prime knew that. Didn't need saying. He settled into the work, a task that had become routine. Break apart, separate into pieces, grind each one down before moving to the next. He took his time, knowing what was next. 

The sparkling's chamber felt so small, so light next to the others. This box was plain. 

"I wasn't sure what to have them inscribe on it," Optimus said. 

Starscream nodded. He almost wouldn't need his the pestle to grind this chamber up. "I haven't decided yet. It's only temporary anyway, until they can be released."

"That isn't the real funeral, then, is it? Where you actually say goodbye and speak of the departed," Optimus half guessed. "What is this step?"

"This is ... this is preparation for the real funeral," Starscream murmured as he pressed down on the crystal. It crushed easily. "The funeral is in the sky. The dust is released into the atmosphere."

"Fitting," Optimus murmured. "They can fly forever."

Starscream nodded as he swirled the pestle around. "After that the mourners fly until our finish is sanded away, and the grieving period is the time it takes for the paint to be completely worn down and repainted. The closer the deactivated, the longer to repaint."

"Very ... public," Optimus said as he rolled the idea over in his processor. It was so very different from what happened on Cybertron where the deactivated were laid to rest whole in a crypt if they were important or rich enough, or melted down to be reused or poured into Cybertron. No one grieved publicly like that.

Starscream glanced up at him, surprised. "Of course," he said. "The death of any Seeker is a loss to the entire flock. All of us. How would we support those grieving if we couldn't tell who they were?" He regarded the grounder. "What do you do?"

"It varies a great deal by city and caste," Optimus pulled up memories from his time as an archivist. "For most, there is no funeral. Only the very wealthy or powerful have public events. Friends will grieve, but it's a private thing for the most part. For some a small group will gather to watch the frame be melted and poured into Cybertron, or the components stripped to be reused. Not many want to be that close to the end though, so they say goodbye in their own ways."

"Strange," Starscream murmured. He poured the sparkling's crystal into its box, latched it, and reached for the last container. In silence, he pulled out Torrent's chamber from his subspace and set it on the ground.

"Was this one that extinguished before the raid?" Optimus asked as he regarded the adult's chamber that wasn't from the stockpile.

Starscream nodded, tracing the crystal with his fingertips. "One of my trine," he said, and steeled himself. "This was Torrent." 

"Torrent," Optimus repeated, staring at the crystal for a long time before shifting his gaze to Starscream. "Why call yourself his designation?"

Starscream sighed, placing the crystal into the mortar. "I didn't trust any of you."

Optimus nodded. "Truly understandable. What should I call you now?"

Starscream drew in a slow intake, cycled it through his systems, and x-vented. "Starscream," he said. "My designation is Starscream."

Optimus continued to rub his back gently as he searched for the designation and found little. It was one of the three hundred missing that Jazz had some hope might have still been alive, but not anyone of importance as a hostage. "Do personal designations hold some special meaning among Seekers?" he asked, wondering if that had played a role in the lie. "Are others we recover likely to give us covers as well?"

"No," Starscream said, shaking his head as he began to break apart the chamber. "Nothing like that." 

"Does _your_ designation hold special meaning?" Optimus asked next. "I've seen it listed, but not as a politically sensitive one."

Starscream bit out a laugh. "If it did, I wouldn't have ended up here in the first place."

"Regrettably, that is not a guarantee," Optimus murmured. "One designation was listed as a noble. If he had been retrieved functional, his fate would have been the same as yours, and for the same reason. No matter, I am honored I have earned your trust enough to know who you actually are."

Starscream gave him a wry smile. "I'm glad you're honored. But you misunderstand. If my designation was important, I never would have left Vos to look for that recognition elsewhere."

"I suppose so." Optimus didn't contest what he suspected wasn't as true as Starscream believed. "Is Torrent the last one to grind?"

Starscream nodded. "He showed me how to survive in there," he said. "Tried to, anyway. Repaid the favor by killing him."

"Why?" Optimus couldn't quite keep the shock from showing.

"Because they were going to put him down, and he didn't want to die in pain. I promised him a quick end, and tore out his crystal," Starscream said, crushing a piece of that crystal into dust.

"Mercy killing," Optimus whispered, still shaken by it but understanding on a level. "You honored his final wish."

"His _final_ wish was that I take care of Cirrus," Starscream said bitterly. "I couldn't do that."

"That was our failure more than yours," Optimus said gently as he rubbed Starscream's wings. "If we'd moved more quickly, he may have survived."

Starscream just nodded as he continued to grind the crystal. When everything was done and tucked away he curled himself against Optimus and looked at the rows of boxes. "They'll be safe out here?" he murmured. "They should be under the open sky now."

"They will be safe. The only access is through my Residence." He paused as they shifted to get a bit more comfortable. "Security and maintenance are also now aware of just how personally I will take it if any boxes are disturbed. No one will touch them."

Starscream nodded again, quiet as he regarded his departed kin. One step closer to the eternal flight. They sat in silence for some kliks before Starscream drew Optimus up and away, leading him by the hand away from the small clearing and over to a crystal-enclosed gazebo. He tilted his head back, looking up at the big mech, and pitched his voice low. "Say my designation."

"Starscream," Optimus smiled down at him before claiming a soft kiss. Starscream pressed back, helm craned as far as he could manage as his hands came to cover Optimus's. When they finally parted, Optimus's engine was rumbling. "Do you believe I could fill you against your back?"

"I believe if you don't I will never forgive you," Starscream said.

Optimus chuckled deeply and kissed him again as he coaxed the Seeker to his hands and knees, then rubbed his extended spike against the red valve cover. "Then open, my feisty Starscream."

Starscream grinned and flattened out his wings so they wouldn't be in the way. "Sounds good when you say it," he said, teasing for a moment by rubbing up and down the spike with his cover still closed. Optimus rumbled at him, a playful warning, before Starscream bared his valve and stretched forward, aft in the air. He was rewarded by a filling, stretching penetration that he'd become quite addicted to, made all the most erotic for the unusual position.

When the thrusting began, deep and forceful in the way Starscream enjoyed so very much, it felt even better than riding that spike.

From this position, the grounder could really get his weight behind the thrusts. Starscream's hands dug into the ground and he gasped, pushing back as much as he could. Movement was limited, Optimus had control.

It felt _amazing._

He groaned, back bowing under his lover's weight. Optimus's hand came around his waist, holding him, and all Starscream could read from his wings was the grounder's frame. Despite it, there was no panic from deep inside, no need to get away, no desire to claw at the mass over him. It just felt _good_ , and it wasn't only because Optimus had an amazing spike and knew how to pleasure a lover. It felt this amazing because Starscream wanted it, and wanted it from _this mecha_.

Optimus grunted and pressed and pulled Starscream to conform even more to himself as the scraping, clanging frames echoed around the crystals, both natural and carved.

After so many dead, this was _life_ , and it was soothing.

Gasped x-vents, cooling fans, moaning, rocking. Before long it became them, just them, pressing and straining together. 

" _Harder,_ " Starscream moaned, helm to the ground. He shuddered and keened with bliss when Optimus complied, driving him into the ground with as much strength as Starscream's frame could take. Just as erotic was the panting, gasping grunts and groans that escaped next to Starscream's audial as every sensor in his valve was rubbed and scraped until they crackled and Optimus roared, deep and vibrating both their frames as he pumped thick, hot crackling transfluid deep into Starscream's frame.

The Seeker screamed, claws digging as he grabbed for something, anything to hang onto as he seized through the shocks that slammed through his frame. His joints locked and where their arrays ground together, current crackled back and forth. "A-a- _ah!_ "

He barely registered it until his pleasure began to settle that the Prime was still driving into him, deep and hard and at full strength.

"I'm going to 'face you into a blackout, then take you to the nest and fill you again as you rouse," Optimus rumbled near Starscream's audial. "Any objections?"

"Not-- _unh_ \--not a single one," Starscream said. 

"Good," Optimus said, and drove forward. 


	11. New Life Emerges

Starscream roused in the middle of the night, sensors on full alert and feeling anxious. Moonlight was coming in through the window, Vos shining down on them. It reflected off of Optimus's armor; the grounder had taken to recharging in the nest, guarding Starscream and his egg. 

Starscream glance down automatically to check on Cirrus's egg, and then realized why he had booted. 

Releasing. 

His eggs were releasing. 

A surprised, half-panicked shriek escaped his vocalizer. Before Starscream even registered it fully, Optimus was up, armor flared and in a crouch as he tried to place what had caused his mate to call out in alarm. After a tense beat, Optimus realized what was happening, calmed, and focused on Starscream.

"They are safe. They will be safe," he promised as he knelt to try to soothe the Seeker.

"No, they won't!" Starscream said, and shuffled upright, backing into the corner. "It isn't safe out here, and I--I--I'm not ready for this!"

"It _is_ safe here, Starscream," Optimus insisted as he felt more than heard Jazz link up with his comm without a word. " _We_ will ensure they grow strong." He paused. "Do you know where you are?"

"In my nest, in your fragging palace," Starscream snapped at him, running his hands up and down his frame, checking his plating, teeking inward for his eggs. They were excited, and he was making them nervous. "They can't live their entire fragging lives in a palace now can they!"

"Despite what some would say, no, they cannot and will not," Optimus said firmly. "They will fly as freely as you will. They will know Vos if they wish to. What no one will argue is that they are _safe_ here. Inside you, as eggs, and as hatchlings. No one will harm them."

Starscream groaned, then shifted forward, resting his helm on the padding and lifting his frame up. "I'll kill anyone who tries," he said.

"Only if you get them first," Optimus rumbled with a deep, fierce determination before pushing it away. "How can I help?"

Starscream shook his head. "I know how," he said. "This part, I know. Just stay there."

Optimus nodded and settled down close to the entrance of the inner nest. It was an undeniably protective move, but also one that gave the twitchy Seeker some space. The last thing either wanted was for Starscream to feel threatened by his mate.

Starscream gave him a grateful smile and flicked his wings in the same before facing down and focusing on cycling his vents. "It'll be a bit," he said. "Maybe four joors."

"I understand," Optimus said evenly. "I will not leave unless you wish me to."

Starscream nodded. "I want you to stay," he said, kneading at the padding. He was anxious; he'd never felt like creating, and he'd never planned to, and he still felt entirely unprepared for nesting and hatching. 

He focused on Optimus's presence, the powerful Prime who would die before letting anything that would hurt his eggs through that tangle. The powerful Prime who commanded warriors that would answer any call. The powerful Prime who had... 

Starscream shifted, tried to settle. Memories of when he was young, watching one of the Visions in his flock laying, trying to peer through the nest. Traditionally only trine and elder Visions were permitted into the inner nest, and he'd only been able to catch glimpses of them moving about. But they had been moving, he remembered that much. Petting. 

"Can you ... rub my wings," Starscream mumbled. 

"Of course," Optimus said, and carefully shifted so that he could reach without looming, and started a very careful massage. 

Starscream x-vented. That was perfect. That was just what he needed. He relaxed. He was _Starscream,_ he could do anything, including this. 

They sat in relative silence, listening to the clicking and releasing of armor that was a familiar pattern to Starscream, but something entirely new for Optimus. Starscream could teek how fascinated he was, but it didn't take away any of the focus on the massage. He'd expected a joor of rubbing, maybe, but they were nearing the laying and Optimus hadn't paused. Starscream's frame felt like jelly. 

The sky was starting to lighten, just barely, when the top of his cockpit shifted back and away. There was no pain, and how strange was it to lay his eggs without that savage violence simmering beneath the surface? 

The first slipped free, coming to rest gently on the nest, caught by a bunched up blanket. Starscream chirred and shuffled it out of the way for the second and third to follow. 

When they were all gathered and his chest closed, Starscream stared down at three pulsing sparks. They were varying shades of yellow, with tints that shifted from pink to red, and he could feel their relaxed humming through their shells. The most yellow was in the smallest of the three eggs. 

"Do you want your fourth egg with them now?" Optimus asked when Starscream's frame settled to the side after the outer armor had closed. He had to move to continue rubbing, so he could fetch the egg easily enough.

Starscream nodded, not looking up from his chirring and clicking to his nest. Optimus settled the last egg among the others and suddenly realized why Starscream continued to be so concerned about it. It looked nearly a third smaller than the others. 

"So bright," Starscream murmured. He was moving between touching all four shells, completely mesmerized.

"They are," Optimus rumbled as he returned to stroking and rubbing Starscream's wings and back. He wanted to touch the eggs very badly, but he wasn't about to cross that line uninvited. "They will be healthy Seekers."

Starscream nodded and chirred to the eggs, watching as the lights flickered back to him. He grabbed part of a blanket and started wiping off the lube from the shells and his front, then glanced back at Optimus. "You could help, you know."

The big mech beamed and pulled out several cloths from subspace and offered a couple to Starscream before carefully beginning to wipe one egg clean. While his primary focus was on the egg, he never lost track of where the three of them were and that he was never between any egg and Starscream. As much as he found this fascinating and wonderful, as much as he considered all four his own creations, it was very much only by Starscream's grace that he was allowed anything and he never forgot it.

Together they got the eggs clean and dry and then they settled in around them, Optimus at Starscream's back. Starscream's head was resting on his arm and his hand formed a partial barrier next to the eggs. He stroked the closest one with his thumb, fascinated by the way the light inside seemed to move and respond to him. 

"When do you need to leave?" Starscream murmured drowsily.

Optimus was still for a long moment as his comm chatter became heavy. "I'll be back late tonight, but I can stay until almost noon."

Starscream hummed and nodded and slipped offline, and Optimus knew just how much trust was required for the Seeker to do so. It warmed him to his core, and it gave him hope that by the time these little ones would be able to notice, neither they nor their creator would have restricted movements.

* * *

Starscream roused partway to the contented warmth of his nest, his mate against his back and being curled around his eggs. Four eggs, all warm and pulsing with life. Warm, teasing fingers ghosted between his legs, playing an enticing pattern along his interface covers.

His first response was a warm, frame-filling purr as he stretched lazily, pushing his top leg forward to make more room for the fingers in between. 

And then one of the eggs flickered and caught his attention and he stilled, staring at them. The eggs were out, he didn't have any excuse to take a grounder's transfluid anymore. Didn't have an excuse to be his lover, or his mate. He stilled, field pulling in uncertainly.

"Starscream?" Prime's deep rumble was gentle and soothing in its question.

Starscream cycled his vents, then looked up and back. "If I do this, it makes you a lover," he said, and hoped the grounder would understand exactly why that was so daunting. 

"Yes," Optimus agreed and shifted his hand to Starscream's hip. "It means I'm more than just a source of strength for your eggs."

Starscream nodded, looking up at him. He could be free now, free of grounders for the rest of his life. If he said no and told the big mech to go away and never come back, it would happen. He could still have some credibility among his kin. 

But he wouldn't have Optimus. 

Silently, he put his hand over the Prime's and pushed it to the front of his pelvis, so that the palm was on his spike cover, and his fingers slipped between his legs. _Thrill_ swept through Optimus's field had nothing to do with interfacing excitement or arousal, but of joy at what it represented. Strong blue fingers rubbed enticing circles along the valve cover as Optimus kissed the top of Starscream's helm.

Starscream purred and raised his leg up to make room as the requested panel moved away. He'd be a pariah among his own, but that had always been true to some extent. This would only cement his place on Cybertron, whether Cybertron wanted him or not. He would make Cybertron love him. 

He already had their Prime, after all.

Thought slipped away as those knowing fingers circled his valve entrance, teasing him into full arousal before one pressed inside to make him groan. His hips canted back and he reached back to hold onto Optimus's arm, tugging, encouraging. "You know what I'll want to do again soon," he said, panting.

"Yes," Optimus rumbled as he withdrew his finger and captured Starscream's hip in his hand, holding it still as he drove his spike upwards, spreading that welcoming slick heat around him with a groan that Starscream echoed. "You'll be bitey again."

"Well--that--but--" Starscream shuddered as the Prime sheathed himself fully and pistoned his hips in short, sharp bursts. "Nnh. I'll want to actually--frag-- _spike_ you."

Another surge of anticipation roared through Optimus's field. "I'm going to look forward to it. So carrying limited interest in your spike?"

"Must have," Starscream gasped. "I've never been so damn-- _frag_ \--uninterested in my life." 

"Then we have another reason to celebrate the safe separation of your eggs," Optimus rumbled as he shifted his grip to palm the front of Starscream's pelvis and drove in harder. "No one's willing to spike me," he growled in frustration. "Jazz would, but he's too small. Everyone else is scared to."

"What-- _oh_ , yes right there--what is there to be scared of?" Starscream managed as the spike cover snapped back eagerly, allowing the Prime's large palm to rub against the housing.

"My title, the reputations of my predecessors," Optimus groaned.

"Frag those," Starscream said. Prime's hand against the tip of his spike felt electric. He bucked against it, grinding. His spike was slow to extend--it hadn't been used in how long? That was a depressing thought which was quickly banished--and _pits_ was it starting to ache.

"Good," Optimus growled with a hard buck into the tightness. "I want you to fill me after I've filled you," he ground out, his charge crackling hard along his frame and into Starscream's. "Watch you thrust-- _nnh_ \--between my legs."

"Fragging--better not make me wait," Starscream moaned, and then when his spike finished extending and Optimus stroked the entire length, arched back and screamed in overload. His thighs clamped down and he rode the Prime's spike, grinding his array against it as waves of current slammed through his wires. He felt rather than heard the roar of the mech behind him as thick transfluid, the mark of a _lover_ , flooded into him.

They remained locked together like that, trembling in the aftershocks for a long klik before Optimus nuzzled him. "Ready to spike me?"

Starscream squirmed impatiently, then groaned when Optimus stroked him. "Fragging yes," he said, leaning forward. He was pressed almost face-first into the ground as he shifted to let Optimus pull out, and shuddered when a thumb swirled around the tip. "Need--" he gasped, and couldn't stop from thrusting against the curled fingers. 

"To bury yourself deep inside me?" Optimus rolled to his back as he spread his legs, his valve glittering with lubricant.

Starscream growled as he pushed himself up and pressed over the grounder. No preparation needed--not that he was thinking clearly enough if it had been--and he sank into the heat with a shout. He helm thrown back, wings high, he rolled his hips forward. It was amazing, and feeling the large grounder roll into his thrusts was a power trip that was only heightened by the shameless, wanton moans that fell from Optimus. 

Starscream held on as long as he could, a small part of him wanting to savor, but as erotic as the whole thing was, as powerful as he felt making his mate gasp like that, and as long as it had been since he'd felt this, he lasted only kliks. He grabbed onto Optimus's armor and pulled forward as hard as he could, lodging inside as he spilled liquid charge. Under him his mate, the ruler of Cybertron, shuddered and moaned, his hips jerking and rolling into the reflexive grinding as he sought the extra stimulation he needed.

The bigger frame with its greater endurance, and probably less desperate equipment, would need more than just that quick frag. Starscream kept pushing--his complete lack of stamina shouldn't cost Optimus his overload, and the gripping walls coaxed and enticed him back to the arousal. "You--should definitely get spiked," Starscream groaned. "It's good."

"Now I have a lover who is willing," Optimus moaned and shuddered as his pleasure built. "I will, often, I hope." He reached for Starscream's wings, seeking to caress and touch as their frames chased the building pleasure.

Starscream lasted longer the second time, frame not quite as desperate, spike not quite as aching, but it still wasn't anything near what an adult lover should be able to accomplish, in his opinion. But it seemed to be enough for Optimus, which was the important part. Starscream jerked forward into the valve that was just on the edge of overload, gasping and straining.

The final jerky grinds and last splash of transfluid crackling against primed sensors was enough in the end and Optimus curled forward a bit, pulling Starscream against and inside him tightly while his valve tightened, crackling even more intensely than his plating.

It wasn't the first time Starscream had looked down on Optimus lost in pleasure, but it was the first time he'd done so knowing it was because he'd chosen this grounder without any excuse but that he desired him.

Intentionally or not, the grounder was his mate. 

The fragging Prime. 

Starscream pressed his mouth to Optimus's armor, kissing what he could reach as he rocked through the last waves of their overload before they collapsed together and he lay shivering, panting. Large, strong hands petted his wings and back as that deep rumbling engine began to notch down to a steady purr.

"Ratchet is coming." Optimus let out an x-vent. "He wants to take readings on the eggs and examine you. Are you going to be all right with that?"

Starscream gave an unhappy grumble as he looked at his eggs, trying to picture Ratchet touching them and deciding whether or not he'd want to kill the medic for it. "As long as you stay," he decided, because Prime did have authority over him.

"I _want_ to stay," Optimus said firmly. "He will not harm them or you." He stroked Starscream's back. "Let me up? He's at the door."

Starscream scowled and hefted himself up and over, settling bow-legged on the ground. Optimus sat and Starscream looked at him, and then down at the strange sensation between his legs. It took him a moment to place. "Oh. That hasn't happened in a while," he said, swiping his fingers briefly through the transfluid that was leaking from his valve, now that his frame was no longer absorbing it. He was aware of Optimus's gaze and lifted his optics with a smirk, bringing his fingers to his mouth and carefully licking them off while looking steadily back.

Optimus stared back, then shook his head to break the focus. "I'm looking forward to tonight when I can be the one to lick you clean," he rumbled deeply as he moved to work his way out of the nest so he could show Ratchet in.

Starscream huffed and closed his panels, going back to his eggs and touching each one to ensure they were all right, then settled next to them as the medic started his way through the outer nest behind Optimus. Starscream's scowl was more to do with his timing rather than his presence, but Ratchet didn't need to know that. Not that any timing would have been truly acceptable.

Optimus soon appeared with Ratchet in tow, the medic muttering about cramped quarters.

"You can deal with cramped quarters, or you can't have your readings," Starscream informed him archly. "I'm only letting you in as a favor."

"Dealing doesn't mean silently," Ratchet grumbled back, not at all intimidated by the Seeker as he began to work. The first readings were by equipment that didn't require any movement or touching, but those were over far too quickly. "All right, please move one of them away from the others so I can get readings on it alone. We'll do that for each egg."

Starscream's engines grumbled but he complied, first lifting the egg with the pinkest tint and placing it separate from its siblings. He repeated that three more times at Ratchet's direction, moving Cirrus's egg last.

"Thank you," the medic acknowledged the cooperation. "The oldest is definitely smaller and weaker, but the sparkbeat is steady. I expect he'll be a small mecha, but nothing I can see indicates damage or malformation." 

Starscream x-vented and nodded, gathering that egg up to his chest when the scanning was finished. "Those three are bigger than the others I had," he said.

"Hopefully that is because of lower stress, better energon and a contributor that wasn't forced on you," Ratchet said smoothly. "I'll be back tomorrow for readings, and to check on how your frame is putting itself back together."

"It's never failed to do so before," Starscream said. "I don't need to be prodded at." 

"You were never under my care before," Ratchet said matter-of-factly as he packed everything away. "I stand to learn just as much from observing you as the eggs. Damage can and does occur during laying, we've seen it before, and knowing what the process _should_ look like might help me fix it in the future." 

Starscream nodded. "All right," he decided. That was fair. If it could help even one Seeker rescued from the black market, the prodding would be worth it. 

"I'll show him out," Optimus said. "Then be back until I have to get ready for my orn."

Starscream gathered all his eggs back together and lay down, settling his arm around them. He flicked his wings in acknowledgment and thanks.

* * *

Starscream wasn't aware of time passing after Optimus left. He curled himself around his eggs and settled in. His frame was between the eggs and the door, his wings constantly scanning the tangle behind him. Except for that, all of his attention was on the four shells in his arms. 

He sank into a blissful daze-like state, watching the pulsing lights, in awe of the sight. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. His eggs were alive, safe. Nothing could take them away. 

He'd never wanted this for himself, but now that he had it, he couldn't help but be deliriously happy. He knew it had to be coding altering his processors, but he couldn't find it in himself to object. He was safe, he was warm and well-fueled, his nest was strong and secure, he had a powerful mate and all that meant he had strong eggs that would all hatch.

His wings twitched and he snapped to full awareness when the outer door to his suite opened, but the rumble of Optimus's engine settled him even before the big mech called to announce who it was. He glanced at his chronometer and cycled his optics in surprise. Joors had passed without him even being aware of them. He hummed a greeting to his mate as Optimus ducked into the inner nest, petting his eggs.

After stroking Starscream's wings in greeting, Optimus followed Starscream's arm, slowly, to touch each egg in greeting himself. They brightened at the new field, indistinct shapes inside shifting about. The younger eggs didn't have the same clear form inside that Cirrus's did, yet, but there was still some movement. 

"They like you," Starscream murmured as all four eggs pulsed in answer to Optimus.

"I'm glad," the convoy class mech smiled warmly, his field bright with joy at the idea. "Now that your frame is settled enough to move about, would you like to visit the garden, or a shower?"

Starscream hummed a negative. "I think I'll stay here."

"To protect the eggs?" Optimus asked carefully, wanting to get a feeling for the why.

"Because I don't want to be anywhere but here," Starscream said. 

"A good reason," Optimus went back to stroking Starscream's wings. "Do you mind if I wipe you down some?"

"Mm-mm." A hummed negative.

"Good," Optimus leaned forward to kiss Starscream's shoulder and stood. "I'll be right back."

"Mhmm." Starscream flicked his wings and listened to the grounder leaving, perfectly content to never move again. Optimus didn't take long to return, once again rumbling as he approached so that Starscream wouldn't worry about the presence. The Seeker barely twitched. He didn't twitch at all when the scent of solvent reached him from a cube that Optimus pulled from subspace and cracked open.

Without a word the big mech soaked a cloth in the solvent and began to wipe down Starscream's wings and back, taking special care with the joints and neck where there were masses of cables to collect grime. He was rewarded with contented humming and a Seeker that craned and arched into the attention, all while staying curled around his eggs.

Optimus smiled, his pleasure at tending to his lover open in his field as he worked. It was three cubes of solvent and a sizeable pile of cloths later when he was facing the Seeker and had done all he could without moving him.

"Starscream, let me clean your chest," Optimus said with a gentle hand stroking Starscream's arm.

Starscream sighed, nodded, and reluctantly turned away from his eggs and rolled onto his back. He looked up at Optimus, then his optics flickered in a quick reboot. "Oh," he said. "Hello there. That's a nice view."

Optimus smiled down at him. "I have a rather nice one as well," he rumbled as he began to wipe down Starscream's chest with the same care as he'd given the rest of his frame.

"You know," Starscream said conversationally after a few kliks, "Some orn I'll get out of here, and I can actually go to school, and have a real place to live. What'll you do when I'm not just down the hall?"

"I don't know," Optimus admitted. "I'm still getting used to the idea that you haven't kicked me out now that you don't need me. I expect we'll work something out when the time comes."

"Mm. I feel like I don't know anything about you," Starscream said, completely relaxed. "What your orns are like, who you talk to, what it's like being _Prime._ What it's like being a commoner-turned-Prime." 

"My orns are full of politics I still don't feel like I have a good handle on. These mecha exist on a level that's completely alien to me," Optimus admitted. "I'm still not comfortable with it. I have doubts I ever will be. For friendly talking, it's mostly Jazz. I wasn't a very social mecha as an archivist. I'm not that social as a Prime. I was content, even happy with my existence before. My spark was well-suited to my duties and I enjoyed my function. I never wanted to be important like this, but I'm adapting with some help."

"What would you do with an orn if you weren't Prime?" Starscream asked. "Just one orn, if no one remembered you, and you could go anywhere you wanted."

Optimus opened his mouth, then closed it as he thought. He remained silent as he wiped down Starscream's cockpit and chest. "I think I would go places that they won't let me visit now. To see what is being hidden. What they're afraid I'll learn."

"But what would you do for _you?_ " Starscream asked. "For fun. To relax."

"I would relax in hot oil, or the magma pool," Optimus struggled to answer a question he knew he wasn't understanding correctly. "What would you do?"

"I'd go flying, or find a party with some good dancing," Starscream said. "But I'm allowed to do that anyway. Or will be." He cocked his head up at the Prime. "Don't tell me you never had _fun_ as an archivist."

"Yes, though I doubt it qualifies as fun to you," Optimus shrugged as he worked lower. "I occasionally went for a cube with coworkers or neighbors at a local cafe. Most of the excitement was when Jazz dragged me out to do something he considered fun. I rarely agreed, but it was always educational. I enjoy going to museums and classical concerts and plays, but those are things I'm still allowed to do. What I miss is what is no longer permitted."

"I like museums," Starscream said, rolling his frame up a little. "What is no longer permitted?" 

"Socializing with working mecha. Simply being part of a group without standing out. Talking about events with peers and knowing it was just talk," Optimus listed. "Everything involved with just being a working mecha. I enjoyed being part of society, not outside it."

"Mm. Maybe we could throw some paint on you and sneak you into an everymech bar," Starscream said with a grin. "Ditch the bodyguards, hit the town. Whaddya say?"

"I'd enjoy it if I could pull it off, but I think I'd need more than paint. Convoys are not a common frametype, and I don't know how to pass as a working convoy." Optimus chuckled weakly.

"We'll work on it," Starscream said, and grabbed Optimus to pull into a kiss that was readily and eagerly returned. "Hopefully one orn your bodyguards will come to hate me. Mm, are you done with that yet?"

"I believe so," Optimus rumbled deeply as he rubbed their frames together, pressing Starscream into the padding. "Just in time to make you messy again."

Starscream grinned at him. "You're enthusiastic," he said. "We'll have to change out the bedding tomorrow." A pause and a mischievous cant. "Again."

* * *

Starscream was sitting at the window, back to the wall and looking up at the sky. It was dusk, the stars were starting to come out, and he had his eggs all nestled in his lap. He was singing quietly, traditional Vosian hymns that his own carrier had been so fond of, and almost missed the soft scraping noises. 

He glanced down, not seeing anything at first, and then noticed the movement inside Cirrus's egg. It wasn't the first time he'd seen the form move. It had become active of late, but this was different.

This was trying to get out.

His spark surged inside him. Eager, excited, terrified at the realization he had _no idea_ what he was supposed to do.

Did it get out on its own? Was he supposed to help? How long before something might indicate the Seekerling was in trouble and needed help?

He scrambled to get his eggs all tucked somewhere safely before diving for the comms that went to Ratchet's personal line, the smallest egg tucked in his arm. "Hey, I hope you're doing something really important!"

"Just recharging," a grumpy, static-laced voice came back. "What's going on?"

"The little egg is hatching," Starscream said, then added, "I think." 

"You coming out or am I coming in?" Ratchet asked, sounding much more awake. "Is Prime there?"

"No, and I am _not_ coming out," Starscream snapped. "There are hard floors and pointy things out there." 

"I'll be at the outer door in three kliks," Ratchet responded. "Be ready to show me in."

Starscream huffed, then opened the channel that would get him Optimus. "I hope you're not busy, because the little egg is hatching," he said. "Ratchet's coming."

"I'll be there as soon as I can be," Optimus responded with a rumble that warned it wouldn't be as soon as he wanted to be there.

"Ratchet can send you updates until you are," Starscream said, then closed the line and headed for the door and waited for the sound of Ratchet's alt mode coming to a stop before opening it. He saw the last of a transformation sequence as the medic stood, then turned and beckoned him to follow. 

"What makes you think it's hatching now?" Ratchet asked. "What signs has it shown?" 

"It's scratching against the inside of the shell," Starscream said. They emerged into the inner nest and he settled down, placing the egg on the bedding. "I've never seen one hatch, but it's never done this before."

Ratchet nodded and quickly scanned the egg, including touching it after a glance at Starscream to ensure the Seeker wouldn't tear his arm off for it. "I agree, it's trying to get out. All its systems are self-supporting as far as I can tell. It's ready to be outside the shell." He settled down. "For now, I advise to leave it on the padding and let it try to get out on its own unless it begins to show distress."

Starscream's wings flicked in a mixture of anxiety and irritation. "How do you know _that_ isn't distress?" he said, gesturing at the tiny pricks of shadow that were the seekerling's claws against the shell.

"Teek it," Ratchet said calmly.

Starscream x-vented and pressed his hand to the egg, feeling a steady vibration that was high-pitched chirring and a field that was _curious-excited-determined_. "It might not know if it's in distress," he pointed out.

"Starscream, every mechanism knows if it is in distress," Ratchet remained calm and steady. "We should allow it the opportunity to succeed if it can. If it tires or teeks of distress before getting out, we can help it. It will be good for its first act to be a success if at all possible."

Starscream shifted anxiously as he watched. "Wish I'd paid attention to all this when elders talked about it," he said with a sigh, touching light fingers to the tip of the egg. The faint scratching and constant movement continued steadily for nearly two groons before suddenly stopping. Starscream's wings went straight up in alarm. "What's that? Why did it stop? I think we should help." 

"It's just resting, Starscream," Ratchet said calmly, scanner in one hand as he teeked with the other. "It's all right." 

Starscream glared at him, but a moment later, the scratching picked back up and he sagged with relief.

"From my research, most eggs take between six to twelve joors to hatch on their own. Sixteen joors is not unknown. Past that and it will need us to break the casing open," Ratchet said calmly. "This is not a quick process."

Starscream groaned. "It should be," he said, scowling, then glanced up. "What research?"

"Shuttles are on better terms with us, and I've made a few friends in their medical community. There are differences, but they also have eggs," Ratchet explained.

"Oh. Of course, Shuttles," Starscream said, and x-vented. "Right. Twelve joors of this." 

"Or less, but probably more," Ratchet said. "This little one might not be as strong or as fast as others." 

Starscream nodded and tried to settle in, keeping his hand close to the egg so it could feel his field there if it needed to. He cooed and trilled to the seekerling when it stopped to rest, chirred in approval when it worked to escape its shell. Somewhere around a joor later, Optimus ducked into the nest, looking anxious. 

"How is it? Is everything going well?" the big grounder asked. 

"So far," Ratchet answered. "He's still working to claw out and still teeking determined. We're looking at five to fifteen more joors of waiting."

"All right," Optimus said, nodding, as he carefully moved around the space that was just big enough for him to sit behind Starscream. He began rubbing Starscream's wings. "I'll have some unhappy diplomats but they'll survive. I'm not leaving this room until he is safely in yours arms," he promised Starscream.

The Seeker purred softly and leaned into the touch. "Good. There are more important things than diplomacy."

"There are," Optimus murmured, kissing the pane of one wing as he continued to stroke and soothe. They settled into silence, other than encouraging the little one to fight its way out.

At six joors Starscream tensed again and focused on the egg. "I can't tell if he's made any progress."

Optimus frowned in concern and looked at Ratchet, who just smiled reassuringly. "I know it's hard to tell, but the depth I'm reading on the shell has decreased since he began working." 

"How much?" Starscream asked sharply. 

Ratchet's hesitation was as telling as anything he might have said. "Nearly a millimeter," he said.

"In six joors?" Starscream's frame went rigid. "He'll take over 152 joors to get out at that rate!" he actually screeched and reached for the egg. "I'm breaking him out right now."

"Starscream!" Ratchet snapped, and Optimus caught the Seeker's arm in his hand, bracing for the blow that he was certain would come once he did. But instead, Starscream froze, staring at the medic with rigid wings. 

"He is _not in distress,_ " Ratchet repeated firmly. "I will tell you the _instant_ he is, but everything I have found says to wait until that happens."

"What's the point of straining himself to distress when we _know_ he'll get there? Just get this over with, break the egg most of the way and let him get out before he hurts himself," Starscream pulled at freeing his hand, but didn't truly fight. "He's weak already!"

"He's stronger than you think," Ratchet soothed. "Calm, Starscream. Calm, and wait. The more he works now, the stronger he will be later. He is learning and testing himself."

"How can exhausting himself now help him be stronger?" Starscream's arm was still tense, but his optics were locked on Ratchet. "Do you know how to care for a nearly-dead seekerling right out of an egg?"

Ratchet sighed. "I don't," he said. "Because I never have. But I trust the wisdom and experience of the Shuttles I've reached out to. Staying in the egg longer will bring him no harm. If you want to break the shell, I won't stop you." He pulled his scanner back, and Optimus let go of Starscream's arm. "It is your choice."

Starscream wavered, looking at the rocking egg and the clawing from inside. He reached out and closed his hand around it, his palm over the clawing. The small being inside stilled, chirred, and Starscream chirred back before lifting his hand away. "A few more joors. He'll be okay for a while longer."

"He will," Optimus said as Ratchet nodded, and resumed his rubbing over Starscream's wings. 

"His carrier gave him everything he could," Ratchet said. "We will make sure it was enough."

"Yes, it will be enough. He may be small compared to his brothers, but he'll live and he'll fly well," Starscream said with an insistence no one contested.

Another joor. Then two, and three, and four, and Starscream could take the scraping no longer. He reached out to the egg and carefully began to scrape away some of the outer shell where the seekerling was clawing to get out. It seemed to sense his efforts because the movement, which had slowed, suddenly redoubled in speed and strength. The three adults watched in tense silence, but after another half joor, it slowed again. Starscream looked at Ratchet.

Ratchet held a hand out and felt the shell, looked at the scanner, and nodded to Starscream. "Hold your hand against the shell, let him know you're right there. He's almost through."

Starscream nodded and trilled encouragement as he pressed his palm against the nearly broken section of shell. "Come on, Stratus. You're almost out."

He heard the way Optimus's vents caught behind him, but it was lost when he felt _pressure_ from beneath his hand. There was a soft cracking sound, and then a light scrape against his plating. He moved his hand to the side and saw a single, tiny set of claws working around a small chunk of shell, tugging at it until it cracked away and more of the seekerling could squirm up. Starscream reached in and carefully, delicately, began to help the sparkling pick away at more of the shell, and then two hands latched onto his fingers. Starscream lifted, and the hatchling dug needle-sharp claws into his fingers, and was pulled out. 

The chirping started immediately, the tiny being clinging to Starscream's hand, completely covered in fluid.

"Fascinating," Ratchet couldn't help but murmur, absolutely transfixed by such a small mecha, without plating or armor and so obviously not ready to function. It simply wasn't how he understood things to be, and yet there was no doubt that this was a mecha.

"Incredible," Optimus whispered in complete awe.

Starscream was completely silent as he cupped his other hand under the hatchling. Stratus didn't let go of his finger and he didn't try to pull it away, but instead relaxed and let the seekerling cling go it. After a moment, he gave a faint, warbling trill. 

Ratchet snapped to sudden alert. "Here," he said, and passed over a sterile cloth. "You'll want to clean off the vents as well as you can. The substance should dry and flake off on its own, but it won't hurt to help it along."

"You hold him, I'll clean him," Optimus offered as he reached for the cloth.

Starscream nodded, looking dazed, and twisted enough for Optimus to reach. Stratus squirmed in protest at the cloth, but his movements were small and easily controlled. Ratchet took readings as they worked, fingers flying over his scanner as he tried to take in every bit of data that was possible. 

"There's nothing of substance to that fluid, nothing at all," the medic said, sounding amazed. "If Seekers are anything like Shuttles, that would have been a slurry of raw material that was used to enforce and build the protoform. I can't believe how efficient that is. I would expect there to be _some_ trace amounts left." He looked up for someone to share his excitement in the discovery, but both creators were completely mesmerized with the hatchling and cleaning him. Ratchet rolled his optics and went back to taking readings on his own. 

Optimus finished as much of the cleaning as could be done and pulled his hand away and Stratus curled against Starscream's palm, looking limp. 

"He's exhausted," Starscream whispered. 

"Do we have fuel for him?" Optimus asked, looking to the medic. "The dilution you prepared?"

"Yes, of course," Ratchet said and pulled a small cube from his subspace, regarded the recipient, and made an impromptu straw from a bit of tubing he had in his kit. "Here, see if you can get him to suck on this. If he won't, I have some solids he can crew on, but they aren't as effective." He held the energon out.

But Starscream ignored him, staring at the weakly-trilling hatchling. The harmonics had changed, and now the Seeker didn't seem able to look away. 

"Starscream...?" Optimus prompted, concern creeping into his voice. 

And then Starscream dipped his helm down and lifted Stratus up. His lips parted and his glossa came to rest lightly against his lower one, and Stratus latched onto the end with his mouth.

Optimus and Ratchet stared, and then Ratchet's field flickered with excitement. "I heard about this, in one of the public files on Shuttle creator-ship," he whispered as he stared in utter, undisguised fascination. "I wasn't sure if Seekers did it too, or if Starscream would know how."

"What is it?" Optimus glanced between them.

"He's feeding the little one. His systems are creating the fuel Stratus needs. So Starscream will need to consume a bit more, but not nearly as much as he did while building the eggs."

"But ... _how?_ " Optimus asked, watching in awe. 

"If it's the same..." Ratchet said, and Starscream glanced up at him for a moment before looking back down, trilling deeply with the same harmonics that Stratus had used. "If it's the same, energon is taken from his tanks and diluted somehow, and then fed back up through a separate system that runs alongside his intake, but then emerges through his glossa." He gave a rare smile and shook his head. "Amazing."

"I wonder how long ago grounders stopped using such an elegant system," Optimus murmured, then reached to rub Starscream's wings and back, hoping to ease the tension that had held him taut for so many joors.

Starscream sagged back against him without interrupting the feeding. Optimus massaged his shoulders and what he could reach of the wings and Ratchet continued with his data collection until Stratus let go of Starscream's glossa. The hatchling settled back, chirring softly. 

Starscream smiled. "Hello, Stratus," he murmured. Stratus chirped back to him. 

"What inspired the designation?" Optimus asked as he looked at the bright optics.

"Derived from his carrier's designation, in a way," Starscream murmured, voice lowering as Stratus curled and slipped into recharge. The armorless protoform looked so small and weak, and the ventilations sounded strained, but their rhythm had evened out after the feeding. Starscream sighed and looked at Ratchet. "He's so small."

"Yes, especially compared to the other three," the medic agreed. "However, all his systems seem to be running well, he's fueled and he doesn't teek of distress. He may be small, but he's healthy."

Starscream looked uncertain, but he nodded rubbed one finger along Stratus's back. "How long can you stay?" he asked Optimus. 

"I cleared much of my schedule for two orns," Optimus smiled at him. "I have a meeting I cannot change after lunch, and a priestly thing I can't avoid tomorrow morning, before dawn."

Starscream nodded and Ratchet gave a pleased click. "Comm me if you have any concerns, and I'll be back tomorrow in the morning. I need to recharge. So do you." 

Starscream hummed a negative as he looked at the hatchling cradled in his arms. "Not yet."

"He'll recharge, eventually," Optimus chuckled and nuzzled Starscream's neck before carefully standing. "I'll show you out."

"I think I remember the way by now," Ratchet said dryly. 

"But you don't know how to disarm the snares," Starscream said without looking up. 

Ratchet paused, then looked to the Prime. "Lead the way." 

Optimus chuckled and ducked into the tangle, Ratchet following behind. 

"I think I should show him how to get through in case of an emergency," Starscream mused as the Prime returned.

"It would be a good thing, if it won't make you feel too vulnerable," Optimus agreed as he carefully got the soiled blanket out of the way and replaced it with a fresh one. "What is done with the shell?"

Starscream opened his mouth, then paused and frowned. "I have no idea. I never saw an empty one." He picked the largest piece up in his claws and held it up, peering at it. "Must just be tossed out."

"All right," Optimus agreed as he collected the fragments and added them to the blanket to be taken out later. "Ready to settle with your eggs and hatchling for a while?"

"And my mate," Starscream purred as he stood to collect his eggs, nestling them into a cluster and settling down to curl around them, Stratus tucked against his elbow. Optimus moved behind him, nuzzling the top of his helm and resting a hand on his waist. "Want to hold him?" Starscream asked.

"Yes," Optimus kept his voice low and even, but his field flared with anticipation. He brought his arm up to curl along Starscream's and cupped his hand to accept the tiny being.

Stratus was carefully transferred to the Prime's palm, and the seekerling looked even smaller there than he did in Starscream's hands. The aqua light of his spark shone through his protoform and he stirred before nuzzling against the grounder's plating. 

"I wish Cirrus could have known him," Starscream whispered.

"As do I," Optimus murmured, most of his awe-filled attention on the tiny being in his palm and the careful curl of his fingers to protect him. "He will still be loved and raised to know that his carrier loved him."

Starscream nodded and rested his helm on Optimus's arm when it came to curl beneath him. "Never seen a hatchling before," he said. "Not this young. They don't leave the nest until the first layer of plating grows in." 

"How long is that, do you know?" Optimus asked, his gaze still locked on the tiny hatchling curled up with room to spare on his palm.

"A few metacycles," Starscream said. "Not long. But nests aren't supposed to have ceilings." He sighed and glanced up. "Maybe I'll take him out before then."

"The garden is very safe," Optimus promised with a kiss to the side of Starscream's helm. "When you are ready."

"Stratus," Starscream murmured, stroking the sparkling's back, running his fingers over the wing nubs. 

And then the memories came fast and unbidden, brutal in their intensity. Starscream scrambled up and away, rushing away from the hatchling. Optimus curled his hand protectively around Stratus and pulled him against his chest. "Starscream?" he asked, alarmed, looking at the Seeker huddled in the corner, crouched over and panting heavily.

"Trying not to purge," Starscream said through gritted denta. 

"Do you need Ratchet?" Optimus asked as he extended his field to try and soothe the Seeker.

::Looks like a flashback ta me, boss,:: Jazz spoke up unbidden from who knew where. ::I could try ta help him through it and the rest of the trauma, but he'd have to trust me on hardline. Otherwise, it's just deal with it as it comes. He's been through a lot. This stuff will happen.::

"No," Starscream said. His claws left gouges in the wall. "Be fine." 

::I'll pass on the offer when he calms down,:: Optimus replied. "All right. Let me know if I can help. I'll will be right here with our creations."

"Yeah, sure," Starscream said, and started cycling his vents. "Just ... be a few kliks." 

Optimus waited quietly, with open comms to both Ratchet and Jazz, for almost a groon before Starscream's wings twitched, then lowered. He shuddered, slumped, then turned around and crawled back to Optimus, Stratus, and the eggs.

"Better?" Optimus asked with a nuzzle and wash of support and love across their fields.

"No," Starscream said flatly. "But not going to purge anymore." He tucked himself back against Optimus and returned to petting the recharging hatchling. "Think I'll recharge too."

"Good," Optimus murmured. "You're safe here, and so is our family."

"I know," Starscream murmured, and shut down.


	12. Hatching a Clutch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What we think Fyat looks like when being picked up  
> [ Ohhh NOOOOOOO Bathing hours...](http://hoschie.deviantart.com/art/Ohhh-NOOOOOOO-Bathing-hours-440277290) by [hoschie](http://hoschie.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)

With Stratus nearly two metacycles out of his shell and strong enough to move about the nest easily on his own, Starscream was starting to feel crazy. His wings itched constantly and refused to hold still. Looking out the window was more torment than pleasure, and he was even snarling at his mate when the big lug hadn't done anything wrong.

He had to get out, stretch his wings, feel the _sky_ , even if just for a few breems. He could take Stratus. Yes. The garden was safe. He'd explored every bit of it and it was indeed secure. There was no way for a hatchling to get out, and Optimus ... yes, Optimus could be trusted to ensure he didn't damage himself.

If Starscream could let Stratus out of his arms. Just the idea felt bad.

He didn't even like watching the young one making his way around the nest. He wasn't an egg anymore, not desirable to those who would have stolen him from his carrier's arms, and Starscream couldn't work out _why_ he was so worried. 

Other than that Stratus was so _little_ and Starscream could only think of a million or more ways the seekerling could hurt himself. Not to mention that Starscream had no experience, no flock, and no elder Visions for support and knowledge. Cirrus would have known what to do. 

"Oh, little one," Starscream sighed. "What am I going to do with you." 

Stratus looked up at him and chirped, but the hatchling was soon distracted by a shiny thread in the padding and Starscream felt the need to rescue him once more. Stratus began to squirm and chirp unhappily at the confinement, but still only managed to escape for a few kliks at a time.

"We have an explorer on our hands," Optimus chuckled as he ducked inside the inner nest.

"We have a tiny, easily-crushed explorer," Starscream grumbled, and couldn't stop his glance out the window. "He should go outside. Isn't right for him to be cooped up like this. Even if I would rather stuff him back in his shell."

"You should get outside too," Optimus knelt and tipped Starscream's face for a kiss while he reached out to stroke Stratus. "The garden is safe."

Starscream scowled at him. "A meteor could land on him, you know." 

"One could crash into him here too," Optimus pointed out. "Unless you believe you are too slow to grab and fly him away from such an obvious danger."

Starscream grumbled and scooped the seekerling up in his arms, standing. "Of course I could," he said, tossing his helm. "I'm just saying." 

"Let's go outside," Optimus said. 

"Okay," Starscream said, and checked his eggs to make sure they were tucked in safely before following his mate out. 

The first step outside made his wings shiver with joy and he tilted his head up to the sky and trilled, then looked at Stratus. The hatchling was fixated on the sky above him, optics wide and bright as he attempted to comprehend _open_. "What do you think, young one?"

Stratus chirped, a sound of amazement and uncertainty, but without fear.

"You'll be up there some orn," Starscream said, walking forward to be more in the open. "Seekers are made to _fly_. We live under the open sky, and in it. You'll cut through the atmosphere, you'll go so _fast._ " He spun Stratus around and then lifted him up in the air. "I'll take you flying, when I can."

"How old should he be?" Optimus asked with a smile for the much improved mood.

"Before he flies on his own?" Starscream asked, watching the trilling and chirping seekerling twitter excitedly at the sky, encouraged by the adult's joy. "Not until he's a mechling." He brought Stratus back down to his face and nuzzled him, cooing nonsense.

"I mean before you can take him," Optimus said, tilting his head. 

Starscream glanced at him. "Could put him in my cockpit and go right now," he said. "But he shouldn't go until he has armor."

"Then not much longer," Optimus smiled, trilling at the happy Seekerling. "Perhaps by the time the others hatch."

"Hopefully," Starscream said, and started walking over to the temporary memorial they had created for the lost Seekers. Optimus followed after, enjoying the breeze. Starscream stopped by Cirrus's crystal and sat, setting Stratus on the ground and touching the lid. 

Stratus looked at the boxes and started to explore, chirping with interest at the shiny surfaces. Starscream let him look, watching closely. "How soon am I to being able to leave?"

Optimus regarded him for a lingering moment, then sighed. "When the last major breeding and trafficking syndicate is brought down."

"There's still an active ring?" Starscream said with a low hiss. Stratus stopped his exploring and looked over with a worried chirp, and Starscream trilled reassuringly.

"According to Whiplash, there is one more major player left," Optimus said with open regret. "Once it is shut down it will be politically viable to approach Vos with proof of the change in laws and enforcement. After that happens, there will be no reason for you or your creations to have restricted movement. A vorn, perhaps two. I am pressing for sooner, but not at the risk of having the perpetrators escaping."

"What if I swore not to talk about it?" Starscream asked. "If I don't talk about it, Vos won't hear about it." 

Optimus sighed heavily. "Starscream, I would have let you leave the first orn we had you with no promises or vows required. The Prime is not all powerful. I must at times concede to my advisors, and this is one of those instances. No vow or contract will convince them that the risk of war is worth letting you go free."

Starscream just nodded, reclining onto his elbows as he watched the seekerling explore. Stratus ran around, looking at everything he could. It went on like that for several breems before Stratus stopped walking and sat down, small body expanding and contracting with force of his ventilations. 

Starscream frowned, then sat up and quickly went over to him, picking him up and chirring in concern. Stratus nuzzled against his palms. He was radiating excitement and exhaustion, but no distress. Tired, worn out, but not damaged. Just very young.

"Does he need energon, or recharge?" Optimus walked up, concerned but much more steady than Starscream.

"Recharge, I think," Starscream said, rubbing Stratus's back. The seekerling chirred, optics flickering. "He gets tired so quickly." 

"Ratchet believes it's normal," Optimus said, rubbing Starscream's back in turn. "Should we go inside, or would you like to rest out here?"

"Out here for a while longer," Starscream said, and tucked Stratus into the crook of his arm and settled down, with Optimus keeping watch until they were ready to go inside.

* * *

Starscream was basking in the sunlight, keeping a careful watch on Stratus as the seekerling chased his own reflection through the small crystal garden. The hatchling loved to be outside, like any real Seeker, and they'd started coming out every orn. 

"I think that's the farthest away you've ever let him get," Optimus said with a chuckle to announce his presence. 

Starscream flicked his wings and shrugged. "He can't hurt himself over there," he said. "Probably."

"No, he can't," Optimus agreed as he stepped over to settle behind Starscream and drew him against his chest for a wing-rub. "It's good to see you both outside again."

"I didn't think you'd get time today to come visit," Starscream said, relaxing against his mate. "Stratus discovered the fountain today."

"Did he enjoy splashing in it?" Optimus asked.

"Oh yes," Starscream said. "Though at first he thought he could walk on it and that didn't end so well. After I got him righted up he was fine. Then he napped, and then he wanted to play in the crystals."

Optimus chuckled with a flare of good humor at the mental image. "I expect he'll want another nap soon. It's good to hear he's curious and active."

"Mm." Starscream lifted his head and whistle-clicked for a few moments, wings cocking in time with the sounds. A moment later Stratus appeared and chirp-clicked back to him, chattering nonsense for a few moments before disappearing again. 

"Is there meaning to those sounds?" Optimus asked. 

"It's a stunted form of 'cant," Starscream said. "He can't fully understand or speak it without wings, but he gets his meaning across. He's having fun, and doesn't want to nap." 

Optimus chuckled. "Wait ten kliks," he said. 

Starscream smirked. "I think I remember you being able to give a pretty good wing-rub in ten kliks." 

"I think you're right," Optimus said, and obliged his mate. Twelve kliks later, a soft chirping began to emanate from the garden. 

Starscream trilled as he stood and headed over, searching for the hatchling among the crystals for a few moments before finding him and scooping him up. Stratus trilled and reached up for Starscream's face, asking to be fed. 

Starscream lowered his helm in answer and the three began a slow, relaxed walk back to the Residence.

"Prepared for this or not, you are a good creator," Optimus commented with a warm smile when Stratus had consumed his fill.

The hatchling stretched and then curled, settling in Starscream's arms as they headed inside. "Of course I am," the Seeker said. "Just because I didn't _want_ to be one doesn't mean I'm not going to do it perfectly. I do everything perfectly."

Optimus credited suffering politicians for too long for his ability not to reprimand his mate for such arrogance. It wasn't healthy, but he wasn't going to fight over it with a sparkling in the room.

Starscream caught his displeased teek and shot him a sharp look, but seemed to have drawn the same conclusion about not saying anything while he had Stratus. He palmed open the door to his nest and ducked through without a word, leaving Optimus to follow or not, as he willed. 

Optimus stood outside for a moment, sighing to himself, before heading after. He was halfway through the tunnel when he heard the alarmed cry, and then the shriek, and then the _panic_. 

"They're not here!" Starscream wailed, and Optimus ran to the inner nest, coming through to see Starscream tearing through the bedding, frantic. " _They're gone!_ "

Optimus made a quick scan, realized that Starscream was still holding Stratus and moved to take the sparkling. The distraught Seeker offered no resistance and almost didn't seem to notice as Stratus was lifted away, continuing his desperate search. Stratus clung to Optimus's hand and began to release a high-pitched, distressed tone. :: _ **WHAT HAPPENED?**_ :: Optimus roared through the comm to the SpecOps security station.

::I ... I don't know, Your Grace,:: the mecha watching sounded truly terrified. ::No one entered after Starscream left until he returned.::

::Looking into it.:: Whiplash's voice joined the line.

::Ditto,:: Jazz added. ::Can you control him enough for a tracker to come in and not be assaulted?::

::Yes,:: Optimus said. ::I will use force if I must.:: He popped open one of the doors to his cab and tucked Stratus inside the enclosed space so he could safely use both hands. The hatchling curled against one of the padded seats and continued to keen for his carrier, who was deaf to the distress call. Optimus tried to put him out of mind to focus on Starscream. ::I will need to show your tracker in.:: 

::Our tracker knows how to get in,:: Whiplash said gruffly. ::Just control your Seeker. We've already scrambled, he'll be there in two kliks.::

::Understood.:: Optimus allowed the line to go quiet but didn't close it. 

In less than three kliks a sleek green frame not much larger than a minibot appeared at the edge of the inner nest with three turbo-hounds behind him. "Your Grace, do you have an object that primarily touched the eggs for my team to get the scent?"

Starscream turned with a snarl, wings flaring out, and Optimus grabbed him with a warning rumble from his engines. "He's here to help," he said. "He's here to find your eggs, Starscream. Where is the blanket they were nestled in?" Starscream's focus stayed on the calm and waiting tracker. Optimus's engines roared and he snapped his fingers in front of the Seeker's face, jarring the focus. "Where is the blanket they were nestled in?" he repeated once Starscream looked at him. 

Starscream stared, then twitched, then looked around. He rushed over to one of the tossed-away piles and grabbed a blanket, and quickly shoved it at the tracker. 

The mech knelt to hold it for his team to sniff, then put it down. "Find," he ordered calmly. There was a flurry of sniffing and circling around the nest, space that was saturated with the scent, and Optimus had to hold into Starscream tightly to keep him from clawing at the chaos.

Then all three were moving towards the washrack door, the first one there scratching at it until their handler got it open for them. "Did you ever take them inside?"

"No," Starscream said, staring at it. "I've never even been in there. Are they in there?" he asked, and Optimus had to hold him to keep him back.

"No, but they were taken through here," the tracker said as he followed his team as they swarmed, baying, at a spot in the wall that looked like everything else. Without hesitating the tracker palmed a spot and a door slid open.

"What the..." Optimus paused, staring at the opening as the hounds rushed through.

"Servants' door," the tracker said before running after his hounds, their baying echoing through the hallways that Optimus hadn't even know existed.

Starscream screeched in rage. "Why didn't anyone tell me that was there!" he howled. "Let go of me!" 

"I didn't know," Optimus shook out of his stunned state as he let go of Starscream. The Seeker rushed forward and dove after the tracker and disappeared. Optimus followed behind and quickly realized his tactical error--he couldn't fit into the servants' hall. Starscream only barely fit with his wings tucked and running a bit sideways. "Starscream!" he called, but the Seeker was gone.

::That tunnel emerges here,:: Whiplash said, pinging Optimus a location. ::Get there. Hound will hold until you're there to join but no longer. I won't risk having Starscream kill the thief.::

::Thanks,:: Optimus responded as he moved, and made a quick choice to find out just how strong this new frame was. Two stories up from the level he needed to be at he leapt over a balcony railing and landed with a heavy thud and bit of a stumbling run to absorb the rest of the energy. It made his entire frame ache as it absorbed the impact, but nothing broke and he reached the door before the hounds rushed through.

::I'm kinda turned on right now, boss,:: Jazz said. 

::Focus,:: Whiplash said, a full reprimand in one glyph. 

Optimus ignored them and joined in chasing after the tracker and the Seeker, and this time, they were cutting across lawns and heading into the city. The moment the tracker transformed to keep up with the small pack, Optimus took the cue and did so as well.

"Grab on!" he called to Starscream as he came even with the running Seeker.

Starscream stopped in his tracks and made no move to grab on as Optimus shot by, then jumped into the air and transformed, jet engines screaming as he rocketed straight up, looped, and then came even over the grounders, keeping pace. Optimus could sense the burst of activity on the comms. 

But Starscream stayed with them, behind the tracker, doing nothing but following. 

Right up to when the hounds zeroed in on a door in a row of generic housing, and then the Seeker transformed and landed and rushed it. The weak construction gave way to his claws and creator-code driven strength and he rushed inside with the hounds, the tracker and Optimus not far behind.

Inside the small, single room apartment that wasn't big enough for Optimus to really enter, and definitely too full with three mecha and three hounds, a terrified, clicking keen escaped and Optimus could see a mech cowering in a back corner near the eggs.

"Get away from them!" he roared, but it wasn't fast enough and Starscream reached him first. A bolt of silver shot past, followed by a shadow, and in a moment of chaos, the Seeker was torn off the thief, who was dropped into stasis and cuffed. With the threat removed, Starscream dove for his eggs. The tracker whistled sharply to call his hounds off from guarding them and Starscream pulled all three into his arms and started rocking back and forth.

"Thank you," Optimus addressed the tracker as he motioned him to get out along with his hounds. Jazz and Whiplash were next, ignored by Starscream as they dragged the stasis-locked and bleeding thief from the room. "I want to know why as well as how," Optimus rumbled to the SpecOps commanders.

"Do you require me for anything, sir?" Prowl's deep, level voice asked from behind the Prime.

"No," Optimus glanced at him. "I was not expecting you...."

"I was with Jazz in Iacon, sir," Prowl explained quickly. "When he was summoned, I followed."

Optimus nodded and turned his attention to getting into the room and to his mate.

He had to first crouch, and then turn sideways, in order to get through the doorframe. He made his careful way over and put his hand on the Seeker's back. 

"They're never being left alone, never again!" Starscream snapped with a low snarl.

"Agreed," Optimus rumbled deeply. "We're going to find out how that mech avoided all the security measures in place. Yours and ours. Ops takes failure very seriously." He popped open his door and reached in for the frightened hatchling who was still huddled inside. "Are you able to take Stratus? He's very scarred."

Starscream twitched, then his helm snapped around when the seekerling started chirping for him. "Oh, Stratus," he whispered, and reached out for the hatchling, bringing him close and cooing to him. "We have to get them back to the nest. It isn't safe out here."

"Agreed," Optimus rumbled. "You carry Stratus and one egg, I'll carry the other two."

Starscream nodded and scooped them into his arms as Optimus took the other two. The Seeker was edgy, possessive, and snarled at the two guards waiting outside to escort the Prime back until they were far enough away that he didn't feel threatened. 

When they got back to the nest, all three eggs and the hatchling were settled into Optimus's lap as Starscream started to drag broken pieces of furniture, jagged strips of metal, and shards of glass through the nest to fortify it against the discovered weakness. Optimus cancelled three meetings while he waited. 

::When do you have time for a debriefing?:: Whiplash asked.

::That depends on whether you can do so while I'm in here, or if I need to leave,:: Optimus replied. ::Likely another joor or two if Starscream needs to settle down enough to guard himself.::

::Then it will be in a joor or two,:: Whiplash said firmly. ::Comm me when you can leave. I know your schedule is likely to get cramped in the upcoming orns, so we'll try to be fast.::

::Understood,:: Optimus replied and settled in for the wait.

* * *

It ended up being three joors before he was able to leave without Starscream protesting. The nest was shored up, new traps had been added, and the bedding had been replaced. The Seeker was curled around his eggs and trilling to them, Stratus nestled in the middle, napping and panting heavily. The orn had been stressful for him and his spark hadn't stopped racing, not even in recharge. Starscream was singing quietly as Optimus slipped out. 

"Please tell me you have good news of some kind," Optimus said as his Ops team joined him in the hallway. 

"Not so much," Jazz said.

"Then the bad news," Optimus sighed.

"Thief was one of the servants you inherited from Sentinel," Jazz said. "Brie. No history of disciplinary problems, no red flags. No flags at all." 

"Which is why we missed it," Whiplash grunted as they came to Optimus's office and sat down around a small conference table. 

"Missed?" Optimus asked with a frown. 

"His little _problem,_ " Jazz said. "Mech's in deep with the scraplets." 

"Gambling," Whiplash said. "Owes big. Figured he could sell the eggs solve his problems."

"So a crime of opportunity, of sorts," Optimus rumbled. "How did he get past the traps? That path wasn't as heavily fortified as the front door, but it _was_ trapped. Starscream knew a door was there, just not the servants' entrance."

"If it was just a crime of opportunity, we would have stopped it before it happened," Whiplash said. "That room is more heavily monitored than yours. Someone is watching it every moment of every orn." 

"I found the moment when the feed was hacked," Jazz said. "I couldn't trace it. Someone cut over our live feed with something pre-recorded. The snares that should have gone off didn't." 

"I have analysts going over every nanoklik of footage looking for when the sabotage occurred," Whiplash said. "My personal suspicion is that it was the same MO with the camera feed." 

"Which should give you a rather short list of mecha capable of doing it so flawlessly that even you can't find it," Optimus rumbled, waiting to see if Whiplash would admit that it almost had to be someone very well trained by Ops. "I'm now far more concerned with why than how."

"As am I," Whiplash said grimly. "And it does shorten the list, quite alarmingly." 

"We won't stop looking 'til we find him, boss," Jazz said. "Has ta be one of ours, or someone who's been through us. I can't think of a way ta pull a job like that off from outside the system."

"At least Brie hasn't stopped talking," Whiplash said. "Among all that rambling, we think we've gotten a few glimpses at the mech behind it. A few times he's talked about someone _mentioning_ that Starscream likes to take Stratus out at a certain time. He's having trouble remembering who mentioned it." 

Jazz snorted. "I wonder why."

"Fear of that mecha, or the mecha being too good to be recognized," Optimus said.

"It's goin' ta be the second, or more likely processor edits," Jazz grumbled. "I know what bein' afraid looks like. Brie's terrified of us, not of the mech he's talkin' about."

"Brie has no idea," Whiplash said, shaking his head. "No amount of interrogation is going to get us an identity." 

"Whatcha want us to do with 'im, boss?" Jazz asked. "Mech's been manipulated, no question, but he knew it was wrong. He knew the consequences." 

"Desperation does that," Whiplash said, shaking his helm. "I'm reviewing your entire staff."

Optimus stilled at Jazz's question and felt his spark constrict. Yes, he'd made an edict and it would be hypocritical to go against it, but a mech like Brie wasn't the kind he'd intended to use it against. Follow the letter of the law he'd written, or what he believed was correct?

"Charge him with multiple counts of botnapping. He'll serve for that, and until he can prove he's no longer addicted to gambling," Optimus finally decided. "Anything more is excessive. He's not a trafficker by trade. I know you're already using any intel on buyers he had."

"Check," Whiplash said, nodding. 

"Better that way," Jazz said. "He'll be safer in jail than out of it. And the perp won't get too scared off by an excessive punishment." 

"And that's the one we _really_ want," Whiplash growled. 

"Fragger's gonna pay," Jazz snorted. "Interrupted my date."

"Dragging an unhappy Praxian around the city hardly qualifies as a _date_ ," Whiplash smirked. " _I_ had a date. _You_ had frustration in motion."

" _You_ had a frag, doesn't count as a date. And I'm getting there," Jazz said, and then at Whiplash's look, " _Will_ get there. Maybe. Whatever."

"You've grown quite fond of Prowl," Optimus hummed teasingly. "Has he found anything appealing in Iacon yet?"

"Likes ta race," Jazz said, shrugging. "An' I can't help it. Mech's hot." 

"He is Praxian," Whiplash snorted. "They all race."

Optimus, however, was far more serious. "Jazz, I will be very upset if you harm him in pursuit of a 'hot mech'. He only began speaking with you to humor me."

Jazz's armor bristled, but he inclined his helm. "Yes, Prime." 

"Anyway," Whiplash said heavily. "We have a lot of work and not much recharge in our futures. You should continue your orns as usual, but there will now be guards outside both doors into that room." 

"Guards that _we_ trust, personally," Jazz said.

"While it may not comfort Starscream, I will recharge better," Optimus thanked them before turning to begin his late evening with what work he could get done.

* * *

:: _RATCHET!_ ::

Ratchet groaned, cringed, and rubbed his forehelm, startled out of his work by the screech. ::What?::

::They're hatching! Get over here!::

::I'm coming, I'm coming,:: the medic said. ::Is Optimus there?::

::He's here,:: Starscream said. ::Just hurry the frag up.:: 

Ratchet packed his things up and got over to the nest in three kliks, got past the pair of guards standing outside, and through the tangle that he now knew how to navigate. 

" _There_ you are," Starscream snapped.

"Starscream, he made excellent time," Optimus tried to calm the jacked up creator down. "The hatchlings are all very strong. You can teek that as well as I can."

" _Anything_ could happen," Starscream said, pacing back and forth as he watched the eggs. "They're _moving._ " 

"Starscream, they're stronger than Stratus was," Ratchet said as he started scanning. "I expect this is going to be a much more typical hatching." 

"But you don't know that until they hatch," Starscream growled, then stilled and trilled reassurance to Stratus when he chirped uneasily from Optimus's lap. 

"I do know they are stronger than Stratus was. I know that Stratus hatched and is doing _just fine_ ," Ratchet repeated. "Those are facts. Calm down and comfort the already hatched one. You're scarring him."

"Speaking of Stratus," Starscream said as he scooped the hatchling up and nuzzled him, tone lightening into a deceptive sweetness. "Why doesn't he have any plating or armor yet?" He tickled the hatchling's bare protoform middle while Stratus squirmed and gave delighted shrieks. 

"His growth was stunted. He's still quite small. All his readings indicates he's healthy, just slow-growing," Ratchet answered with the usual recitation, his tone leveling as Starscream's did. "If he doesn't have armor by the time these three do, I'll push my contacts a bit more. Might even get one to come see them, if you'll agree to it."

"Hmm." Starscream nuzzled his nose into the hatchling's middle before kissing his helm and looking back to the eggs. "Shuttle or Seeker?"

"Shuttle. Unless Ops finishes up and we can contact Vos before then." Ratchet shot a look at Optimus, who could only shake his helm, not knowing.

They all fell silent as clawing began in earnest, especially in the two larger eggs. The third, the smallest, was still larger than Stratus's had been, and the activity was also vigorous, but much more focused.

Stratus began to chirr curiously and squirm to be let down. He nearly got out of Starscream's hold before he was safely on the ground, making the Seeker squawk in alarm before catching him. All three adults gave an x-vent of relief when he was set down, going curiously over to the eggs and continuing his chirring as they rocked noisily.

"Those are your siblings," Starscream said, sounding frazzled. "Soon there will be three more seekerlings."

"Soon you'll be able to take them all out to the garden," Optimus offered what he hoped would be a good thing. "No more being stuck inside if I'm not here to protect them."

"Yes, and then there will be _four_ of them to keep track of," Starscream said, resuming his pacing. 

"I have every confidence in your ability to watch over four flightless creatures," Ratchet said. 

"There is nothing out there they can easily hurt themselves with," Optimus added. "If you ask for help it will be provided." 

Starscream muttered about foolish grounders and continued his pacing. At the joor mark, he stopped and sat down, watching the eggs with the other three and holding Stratus while Optimus shifted to hold him from behind. By the second joor one of the larger eggs began rocking violently with cracking sounds.

"That's good, Pathfinder," Starscream whispered. "Come out."

Stratus whistled, optics fixed on the movement. He crawled out of Starscream's lap towards the egg, peering at it, and then a small hand punched through the shell and he gave a startled chirp, scrambling back to the safety of the adult's lap. 

A second hand soon followed, tearing away at bits and pieces of the shell until a goo-covered head lifted out, rich purple optics blinking as they came online and started to focus. Starscream gave a low, joyful, and almost disbelieving moan as he reached out to lift the hatchling. Pathfinder focused on him and chirped a joyful greeting to the field that he knew so well and had always associated with warmth and love.

"He's beautiful," Optimus whispered.

Ratchet handed over a cloth and started to scan while Starscream cleaned him off, the seekerling sitting quietly as he did, looking around at everything and humming. Stratus peered at him, chirring and clicking until Pathfinder began to click back. Stratus held a hand out and it was curiously accepted.

Pathfinder chirred and clicked, examining the offered appendage before grabbing at Starscream's to examine the much larger but similarly built one.

A crack from the next largest egg made him look back, and then he chirped and squirmed out of Starscream's hands and fell on his face. Starscream winced and righted the squawking hatchling and set him near the egg so he could watch. Stratus crept a little closer. 

A pair of hands came through this one, and then a pede, and the shell was dismantled similarly to Pathfinder's. "Farsight," Starscream trilled, encouraging the little one to break the rest of the way free. The new hatchling spat out several static-heavy squawks as he forced the shell apart, and fell out instead of the attempted step.

Stratus fled back behind Starscream as the two new hatchlings began to chirp and trill to each other, Farsight looking unaffected by his fall. Starscream lifted him over for a quick rub-down and the hatchling relaxed immediately, unresisting. He stayed completely still, looking around serenely with deep sapphire optics, humming. 

"That was so fast," Starscream said in amazement, looking at the last egg. Stratus crept back to Optimus and crawled up into the offered hand, preferring to watch all the strange goings-on from there.

"This one's trying something very different," Ratchet mused as he checked out the third and smallest egg of the clutch. "He's cutting a square hole."

"She," Starscream said, x-venting slowly as he set Farsight down next to his brother. "Fyat is a she."

"All right," Ratchet nodded. "She is going to use the least amount of energy out of all of them to get out. It's really very brilliant a move for something with no experience."

"Cunning," Starscream said with a pleased purr at Ratchet's assessment.

"Fyat," Optimus repeated the designation. "What does it mean?"

" _Commander by will alone_ ," Starscream trilled to the last hatchling. "Old Vosian."

Farsight and Pathfinder both returned to their sibling's egg, drawn by the curious noises coming from within. Looking closer, Starscream could see where the needle-like claws were etching out a shape, weakening the shell strategically instead of simply clawing at it. He continued to trill his encouragement, and it was another few joors before the scratching stopped. 

There was a long moment of silence, and the square section of shell flew off, punched from beneath by fists instead of claws. The hatchling that emerged had bright crimson optics that were already online and she shifted all of her weight to one side, rolling the egg over so she could squirm her way out of the shell.

"She's quite the planner," Optimus hummed, amazed at what he'd just witnessed. "If she takes to politics, she'll be an incredible asset."

"So long as she doesn't go for the 'kill anything that disagrees with me' method," Ratchet chuckled when the Seeker reached for his little spitfire and found her claws and tiny fangs bared at him before she recognized who he was.

Stratus began to chirp in earnest, leaning forward on Optimus's hand in a request to be moved closer as Starscream picked up the feisty hatchling. She fought against every moment of the cleaning, clawing at the cloth and tearing through it.

"I think she takes after you," Optimus grinned at Starscream as he held Stratus as close as he dared to the squirming, defiant bundle of razor sharp claws.

Her smaller stature seemed to intrigue Stratus and he whistle-clicked to her throughout the hurried, haphazard bath that Starscream was able to give before he gave up and let her go. She immediately started to prowl around, first getting a feel for crawling, and then walking quickly after that. She went to her brothers and started to inspect them. 

Starscream let out a relieved x-vent, slumping back against Optimus. "Welcome to the next couple hundred vorns," he said.

"How long before they'll be able to speak something I can understand?" Optimus wrapped a spare arm around Starscream and carefully set Stratus down to join his siblings.

Starscream shrugged. "Hatchlings I saw picked up Vosian and mixed it in with the 'cant around 10, but since you can't understand 'cant..." He hummed. "They'll probably pick up Imperial at the same time. I'm going to speak as much Vosian and 'cant as I can to them, so it'll be a mix of all three for a while." He tilted his head back to look up at his mate. "Wouldn't hurt you to learn some Vosian, too."

"I understand Vosian and a bit of 'cant," Optimus said simply, his optics on the four hatchlings. "I don't speak it very well though. I learned as an archivist. The Matrix makes it easier to understand frame language I don't share."

"Oh," Starscream said, and immediately switched languages. "Who knows, maybe being surrounded by only Imperial and Vosian they'll pick it up faster." He gave a sharp whistle when Fyat pushed Stratus, knocking the smaller hatchling over. Stratus started to chirp in alarm and Starscream moved to intervene, but Fyat looked just as alarmed herself and started chirr-clicking as she crouched down and peered at him, patting his face.

Stratus chirred back at her and wobbled his frame a bit before all three younger hatchlings helped him to his pedes. That done Fyat shoved one of her larger brothers with the same force, watched him shift and stay upright, then looked at the hatchling smaller than she was and chirped in understanding.

"Well, since I don't understand Vosian or 'cant, and you seem to have them well in hand, I'll leave you two to cope with them," Ratchet said as he stood. "They're all in good condition. I'll be by tomorrow to check on them."

"Thank you Ratchet," Optimus nodded to him.

Starscream just lifted a hand in farewell, then once the medic had left, shivered. "Whoever wanted them gone won't care that they've hatched," he said in a low voice. 

"I know," Optimus murmured, his gaze on the hatchlings as they explored their frames, their balance and each other. "Jazz and Whiplash are personally vetting every guard and servant with access now. The one who stole them had a gambling problem. I do not believe he acted alone, and neither do they." He reached to rub Starscream's wings. "Until we know why and who, they will never be without one of us guarding them."

Starscream nodded as the three youngest hatchlings started playing together, pushing and tumbling. Fyat did most of the pushing, Pathfinder did most of the tumbling, and after the first tackle Farsight stayed down and just watched, chirring happily. Stratus tried to join in a few times and found himself heavily outclassed and moved to sit far enough to be safe and watch. Starscream clicked to him and the smallest hatchling clicked back, not upset. 

Farsight was the first one to wander over to Starscream and look up at him with a requesting trill that Optimus had quickly grown to recognize. As soon as they heard it, Pathfinder and Fyat both came over and made the same sound.

"Distract them while I feed Farsight," Starscream instructed as he lifted the sparkling to his mouth and offered his glossa.

Optimus simply nodded and tried to get their attention with his fingers, then offered a refractive crystal to create a moving rainbow of light on the blankets.

Stratus saw the crystal in Optimus's hand and immediately gave an ecstatic trill, looking down for the chasing lights. He dove after the first one and Fyat started to click at him in confusion, distracted from the feeding by her sibling's strange behavior. Then a dot moved past her and she gave a high pitched trill and started to chase. Pathfinder quickly joined in. 

Optimus chuckled and reclined, enjoying playing with them. "Maybe I should try this on you," he teased Starscream, and got a slicing look for his trouble. The light kept them all entertained as they grew hungry, then played, and fed again. Only Stratus earned a worried look at he settled to recharge long before his younger siblings were done chasing the lights.


	13. Execution by Jazz

Starscream followed Jazz into a shadow land under the palace and much of central Iacon. Though the lights were more than enough to see by and the ceilings normal height, the place left the Seeker with a distinct sensation of being deep inside the planet. It was unsettling, and he had no doubt it was intended to be so.

"How's your thing with Prowl?" he asked after a while, just to remind himself that he could still talk freely.

"Coming along nicely," Jazz said cheerfully. "I know more about him than you do Optimus."

Starscream narrowed his optics at him. "There is no objective way to measure something like that."

"Really?" Jazz grinned up at him. "What's Optimus's favorite color, his favorite pastime, how many lovers has he had, what does he desire more than anything else?"

Starscream's wings twitched. "Well those are ridiculous things," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Anyway, _I_ don't have to force him to spend time with me."

"I'll give you that one, for now. So what _can_ you tell me about Optimus?" Jazz asked as they entered a lift to take them down.

Starscream shuddered and tried not to think of how deep into the planet they were going. "I know he misses being a normal mech. He has a snarky side that no one suspects. He likes his energon sweeter than any sane mecha should." He smirked. "He _really_ likes being spiked."

Jazz chuckled. "That he does. All of it." The conversation went quiet as they stepped out of the lift and Starscream followed Jazz into an area lit so there was not a shadow to be found in the meticulously clean hallways. The doors were similarly flawless and designated only with numbers, except for the first one on the left, a small washrack meant for no more than one or two mecha at a time. It was a short hallway with five doors on the right, four on the left, and one at the far end. Starscream took it all in as he did everything else, with nervous energy and a growing grasp of just how much Prime didn't want to know about the realities of the empire.

Jazz walked to the third door on the left and it slid open after a longer pause than most to a small observation room overlooking a torture chamber. "This particular monster ate several of your eggs and ordered many more of them for his guests. He continued to partake well after the Prime gave his edict that it was to stop." He motioned to the elegant blue and silver mech without a physical mark on him. He paused for long enough to let the Seeker get a look. "Starscream, say hello to the former Lord Accredit, now a non-entity by order of the Prime," he purred. "You can watch me execute him."

Starscream stared, and then grabbed for the wall to steady himself. "How do you know they were mine?" he rasped. 

"Swindle kept meticulous records. It just took a while to translate and trace everything," Jazz explained. "But once we did..."

"Which ones?" Starscream asked sharply. "I mean--in order, which numbers did he get?" 

Jazz glanced at the Seeker before answering. "16, 19, 23-41, 81-84, 102-111."

"Almost a third," Starscream whispered as all their designations came back unbidden, staring through the window. Then the snarl rose up. "Thief," he hissed. "Egg thief. Egg _killer._ "

"And as long as ya never tell Prime how I do it, you can watch his execution. If ya still want to," Jazz looked at him seriously. "I draw out the executions I can for an orn or more."

"I want to," Starscream said coldly, then glanced over. "Can you boil him?" 

"I won't deactivate him that way, but yes, I can boil him," Jazz nodded. "Anything else you want to have done to him?"

"Just boiling him as long as you can," Starscream said. 

"Will do." Jazz nodded. "The energon dispenser is in the corner. Draw what you need. Recharge if you need to." He purred in anticipation as he motioned to a simple berth in the back, his field flaring slightly against Starscream's with his eagerness. 

"Got it," Starscream flicked his wings and watched Jazz leave, then enter the room with the noble.

"Hello there, thing," Jazz greeted him cheerfully, rubbing his cheek against the prisoner's as his frame began mapping the stretched out frame strung up by its wrists but with both knees secured to the floor. "We're going to have a long and very enjoyable time together before I finally let you go."

"Get _off_ me," the noble drawled, turning his helm. "This is undignified and I demand to be set free."

"Undignified," Jazz hummed as he continued to touch and explore his unwilling lover, sliding his hands along the mech's frame to find the gaps and reach slender, nimble fingers in to tease the wires. "An interesting description for what you must realize is going to happen."

"If you think for a _moment_ that you will have _any_ effect on me," the mech said, rolling his optics. "You are sadly mistaken. My House will pay whatever you desire. You can have that or death." 

"It's not for you. I like to play with my food," Jazz gave him a wicked grin and leaned in close to claim a kiss. "Though I think I'm insulted that you don't recognized The Prime's Assassin when he's already said he's going to execute you. You know the law, the new Prime's edict. My spark will feast this century as it rarely has."

The noble looked unsettled that. "I have done _nothing_ wrong," he said. "Nothing at all. That law is a farce and I will pay you _double_ what he does." 

Jazz's fingers played down the noble's chest, tracing the seam where it would split. "And become the new top target for the one who trained me? No thanks." Jazz giggled a little manically. "You nobles think credits can buy you anything. They can't. There are still a few things not for sale." Jazz dug his claw in just enough to draw a curl of metal from the armor that cost more than the sparking of an entire infantry division. "You know, by now most mecha have asked what I'm planning to do. But I think I like your type. Wanting to have every moment a surprise. Such a delicious idea."

The noble made a disgusted sound, and Starscream pressed to the glass, wings trembling and turbines humming with tension. He wanted to see _fear_ and _pain._ Nothing would ever equal what his creations had endured, but if Jazz could do what he said, this grounder at least would start to pay the debt. 

"...What _will_ you do to me?" the noble asked, starting to look frightened. 

"I'm going to frag you to deactivation, and a couple things as a gift to one of the Seekers whose creations you ate as a consolation prize for not getting to off you himself," Jazz grinned, the smile turning menacing. "You're going to scream for me until your spark literally can't take it anymore. Then I'm going to take that too."

"No, no, please, I understand what I did was illegal but--" Jazz ran his glossa up the center of the noble's chest, stopping at his neck and starting to nibble there. "You don't understand, I have eaten them since I was brought online! I couldn't stop, the Prime must understand that. Please, I--have--have you ever seen one? Seen the way the shell gleams, and oh Primus that taste! If you'd ever tasted one you would understand!"

"Yes, I've seen them. I've seen the way the sparklight shines through the shell. I've watched a clutch hatch, the little ones take their first steps. I've seen what's done to the adults so you can eat their _creations_ ," Jazz cooed at the noble. "I know every processor game there is to justify harming another being, and trust me, I know all about getting off on snuffing out a spark. I also know that addiction doesn't excuse murder."

Jazz slid his claws along that lovely frame. He circled a dataport cover, causing his plaything to shudder, before hooking a finely crafted, razor-sharp claw under the edge and ripping it off with a smooth motion. His engine revved sharply at the cry of startled pain he earned. "Yes, you scream so nicely," he grinned and claimed a biting kiss that left Accredit's lip plates oozing energon. It was only a distraction as Jazz plugged in, shattering Accredit's firewalls and uploading several specialized viruses.

With a grin Jazz slid up Accredit's frame and bit his lip plates hard before driving his glossa into his oral cavity, coaxing his prisoner's glossa into his own before biting down hard enough to gain a small mouthful of processed energon. With it dribbling down Accredit's chin and a trickle sliding down from the corner of Jazz's mouth, the silver mech grinned and whispered in Accredit's audial. "You should have gotten yourself wiped when you had the chance to escape this fate. I'm glad you didn't."

Accredit's vocalizer spat out short, panicked whines and he kept trying to turn his face away from the silver demon. Starscream found his claws scraping against the glass as he watched. There would be no mercy or pity or relief for this monster who had listened to his creations screaming in their last moments of life. Grounders like this one had driven him to become his own creations' killer. Grounders like _this_ one were the reason he knew how fragile their spark chambers were and how they _tasted_. 

Jazz trilled with a pleased clicking ruffle of his armor. Razor sharp claws slid upward, caressing and playing with Accredit's frame, slipping into openings in his armor to tease, and then cut wires. Against him Accredit moaned, shuddered and choked cries of pain as the viruses Jazz had uploaded dialed up his sensor net and fed his processors all pain input as pleasure and pain together.

Deeper down, other viruses were busy working to ensure that Accredit reacted the way that turned Jazz on the most. Not just giving the 'right' moans and cries, but angling his frame, loosening his armor and subtle shifts that opened his frame up to the sleek minibot. In all ways acting like he wanted this, the pain, the pleasure, the lack of choice and his impending deactivation.

Accredit began to shriek. "What did you do to me?"

"Uploaded a couple programs to make this even more enjoyable for me." Again Jazz slid his claws in, this time going deeper to catch a small energon line, slicing it through as he curled his fingers and drew them back. The scent pulled a deep rumble from him. Another line was cut and Jazz moaned. He'd overload half a dozen times before taking the spark and he knew his audience was appreciative of his efforts. His vents were wide open, fans on full and his spark racing from the charge indulging in this created in him.

Above, Starscream watched with rapt interest, wings cocked forward to take in every detail that he could get through the glass. He'd never been interested in this kind of hard play, but Jazz clearly enjoyed it. It spoke volumes about the little 'bot, and even more about the strength in the grounders' empire and where it was focused.

As Jazz sliced and bit, licked and kissed, Starscream gradually sat, optics bright. He'd have preferred pure agony to the moans that the noble was giving, but at least he could tell the pleasure was being forcefully taken and not enjoyed in the least. On a level he knew it should be abhorrent and utterly terrify him that such actions could be legal, but he simply couldn't bring himself to object to any treatment of this monster.

He did, however, find himself bored now and then. Watching Jazz get off on slowly dissecting someone wasn't nearly as entertaining as watching Optimus spike the minibot.

Then there was a break after nineteen joors and Starscream found himself perking up again. A large vat was being brought in and then filled with oil.

He sat up straight, focused. The once-noble was trying to get broken optics to focus, head lolling around when he tried to move it. Jazz brought a cube of energon to his lips in a mockingly tender display, purring the entire time. 

"Ta keep your strength up, luv," the minibot crooned. 

"Wh--tz--at?" Accredit managed, looking at the oil.

"A request from the carrier of many of the eggs you consumed," Jazz trilled and looked directly at Starscream, who only then realized that the view was likely one-way. "He wants you to experience just what his creations did."

"W--" Accredit looked up in confusion, then at Jazz, then at the oil, before realization struck him and he moaned. "S--s--t--" Jazz pressed a kiss, glossa swirling deep into his mouth. 

"Havin' trouble?" Jazz asked, and tweaked his fingers into Accredit's throat. "Try that, sweetness." 

Accredit's vocalizer spat static. "Not the same!" he croaked. "Eggs--they're just--Primus please no!"

"They are living sparks, mecha who think, feel, teek and very much know pain," Jazz said with grim hatred. "Like I said, I know _all about_ getting off on snuffing out a spark. I'm not here to judge your kinks. I'm here to carry out orders, and enjoy myself while doing so. If I can indulge someone you hurt beyond measure in the process, all the better." He smiled darkly. "Don't worry. Unlike the sparklings, this won't kill you. I reserve that for myself."

Accredit began to shriek and struggle with what strength he had left as the base of the vat began to glow red with heat. Jazz hooked his legs around the noble's waist and rubbed up against him, muffling the screams with his mouth and glossa. His hand slipped between them, settling around his pelvis, and while Starscream couldn't see exactly what was happening he could make a good guess. 

The silver demon, as he'd been called so many times, really did live up to the designation.

Starscream made a high-priority note to himself: never, ever get on Jazz's bad side. If this was what he did when ordered to 'make someone go away' he really didn't want to find out what happened when Jazz had a personal stake in the kill.

As the oil heated and bumbled, Jazz rode Accredit's spike to a screaming overload that Starscream was sure was heightened considerably by the state of his pray. When Jazz pulled away, he left lubricant dripping down his legs and Accredit's spike, and made quick work of shifting the bindings so he could lift the noble off his pedes.

"Hey Star, ya wanna drop 'im in?" Jazz called out.

Starscream cycled his optics, and then started to purr, denta bared in a vicious grin. "You have _no_ idea," he said, rising to his pedes. It was obvious which door to go through to enter the space. The moment the door opened he was hit with the scent of boiling oil hot enough to scald and melt some metal and many wires. Far hotter than anyone would find comfortable. Hotter even than molten rock.

"He's all yours ta drop in," Jazz offered the chain to the Seeker. "If ya want, y' can play until I say otherwise."

"I'm going to drop him in and leave him there," Starscream said, taking the chain and the grounder's weight. He reached up and grabbed Accredit's chin, sinking his claws into his face and wrenching him around. "Was it worth it?" he snarled. "Are you _glad_ you tortured them?"

"It was preparation, nothing more," the noble objected. "It wasn't torture. It's what they were bought for. What they were made for."

"They were made to fly," Starscream said sweetly. "Did you know they can sing, even before they're laid?"

"Not possible," Accredit denied. "It's just a thing."

"Do you think _you'll_ sing for me when I drop you in?" Starscream purred, giving Accredit a push that swung him over the oil. The air above it was distorted with heat, shimmering far above where the noble hung.

"I didn't do this!" Accredit cried out. "I never touched them whole. What is this going to gain you?"

"Absolutely nothing," Starscream said with a shrug, and let go of the chain. 

Accredit's scream only had a nanoklik to carry through the room before his helm dropped below the oil and it became a muffled, high-pitched tone as the dark shape thrashed in the oil. Starscream watched with no outward reaction, but his field pulsed with tight, pained throbs. 

"They would have struggled like that," he said flatly. "They have protoform, even that young. You can see it when they move."

"If they can sing and have a protoform before they even separate, what happens between then and hatching?" Jazz asked as he dispassionately watched the noble struggle to escape.

Starscream rolled his optics. "You'd be better off asking Ratchet if you want specifics. Basic idea, all the material they need to hatch safely is in the egg and it goes onto them there without draining energy from their carrier that whole time. We can't fly when we're egg-heavy, it isn't safe to stay that way for so long."

"I didn't think Vos was that dangerous," Jazz commented over the splashing and screaming. "I could see it being true generations ago, but it's still that bad?"

"Oh, no," Starscream said. "It's just silly tradition and instinct. Though fretting Actions can pose some threat by being _smothering_." He smirked. "That's probably the real reason for it, to avoid going stir-crazy trapped in a nest."

"That one makes sense," Jazz chuckled before just watching for a while. "He'll need to come out in a klik," he finally said. 

"All right," Starscream said, and fell silent to enjoy the last moments of Accredit's boiling. When one klik had passed, he grabbed the end of the chains again and hefted. Boiling oil lifted and spilled around the vat, though it wasn't nearly as optic-catching as the mutilated, screaming once-mech that caused the waterfall. Starscream handed the chains back over to Jazz, and had to raise his voice to be heard over the shrieks. "I don't say this often. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jazz replied as he maneuvered the partially melted frame, no longer really struggling, back into place. "Go back to the viewing room," he shooed the Seeker away. "I'm not safe during a merge."

Starscream raised an optic ridge at that but went dutifully back up and started to draw a cube of energon before realizing that his hands were shaking. He got his cube and sat back down, setting it aside and clenching his hands in his lap, trying not to think about the pain his creations had suffered. 

It wouldn't have been like that, not exactly. Their shells would have offered some amount of protection as everything around them boiled and gelled. They wouldn't have lasted that long; their tiny bodies could only stand so much. 

To imagine Stratus, Pathfinder, Farsight, or Fyat suffering that... 

Starscream shuddered, and tried to keep his focus on whatever Jazz was doing as the minibot's entire demeanor shifted. A hint of a dangerous smile was the only expression he allowed through as he stalked forward and walked in a slow, steady prowl around the bound and half melted mech, moving a little closer with each pass. 

When he seemed satisfied by what he could see, industrial-strength claws transformed out of his fingers and he flattened his palms together, aiming for the center of the chest, then punched through the armor. Accredit's vocalizer screamed, mouth no longer able to open, and Jazz wrenched the once-fine plating open with almost no effort. 

Nobles weren't built to withstand. 

The spark was bared after handfuls of wires and internals were ripped away and Jazz's own began to shine out as his armor split. "Your deactivation will not be in vain," the minibot whispered, his voice that of a dear lover. With tender care he used his claws to score the chamber, causing Accredit to spasm. 

A sharp downward strike fractured the chamber along the score, cleaving the front third off and exposing the guttering spark inside. Jazz shuddered visibly as the spark reached for his fingers, the pure energy of life dancing forward. His spark reached out as he moved his hand out of the way, tendrils reaching for the rapidly failing spark of his plaything.

As Starscream watched, Jazz _merged_ with the dying mech. The view wasn't the best, but what he was seeing ... the minibot's strong, bright spark was slowly engulfing the other. It was being absorbed, tendril by tendril, until the frame grayed. 

When it was over, Jazz slumped forward into a hard reboot, limp over the deactivated noble. 

Starscream stared in shock. A moment later, the door to his right opened and a slender white mech stood waiting for him. 

"Good reminder to never get on his bad side," Starscream said. 

The mech chuckled. "There are far more reasons than that not to get on his bad side. If you'll follow me."

"What's worse that that?" Starscream asked as he obediently followed the white mech.

"I know you were only in there for about an orn." Sky blue optics glanced at him. "Imagine it lasting a decade. He gets creative." 

"I ... can't even imagine," Starscream admitted as he rapidly began to delete threads trying to work it out. "I don't think I want to know why he'd take that long either."

"Unless you _really_ make him mad, you'll never have to find out," the mech said cheerfully. 

"I would hope so," Starscream said dryly and then followed him out in silence.


	14. Explosive Mistakes

"Starscream?" Optimus called, ducking into the tangle and making his way through to the nest. He couldn't wait to tell the Seeker his news, and found him waiting attentively. The three younger hatchlings were all playing together in the middle of the nest and Stratus was in Starscream's arms, resting. The orn had started out with a visit to medbay after a collapse. "How is he doing?" Optimus asked. 

"He's tired," Starscream said, rubbing the hatchling's back. Stratus gave a low chirr, nuzzling his face in deeper to Starscream's elbow. "Ratchet said he was exhausted, but all he needs is rest. Probably overexerting himself playing with the others and trying to keep up. We need to watch for signs of him getting tired, if he isn't stopping on his own."

"Then we will watch him more closely," Optimus agreed as he settled behind Starscream and nuzzled him. "But I come with good news. Whiplash believes they are within a metacycle of busting the last breeder ring."

"And then you'll contact Vos," Starscream said, wings lifting. "Or I will, if your advisers won't let you. I'm not waiting forever."

"I never wished you to," Optimus tipped his helm back for a kiss. "Though I expect it will be stressful, I am looking forward to having more open relations with both moons. It has been too long."

"Don't kid yourself, it's going to be _very_ stressful," Starscream said. "I'll need to talk to the Winglord, as soon as I can. Not that I expect to have trouble in getting an audience, but keep it in mind." 

::What's he need to talk to the Winglord about so badly?:: Jazz commed with a frown in his voice. 

::I can think of many reasons,:: Optimus said mildly as he held his hand out for the hatchlings to climb up his frame. 

::Just ask, would ya?:: 

"Why the Winglord?" Optimus asked, rubbing Starscream's wing with his free hand. 

"Cirrus passed on a list of designations," Starscream said. "Seekers who'd been in that _place._ I promised to pass it on in turn."

Jazz groaned over the comms. ::Y'wanna talk him outta that?::

::Absolutely not. They _deserve_ to have their fates known.:: Optimus's voice held the same dangerous rumble as his engine. "Would you consider waiting until the treaty is settled? A few more metacycles will not harm them."

"Only the flocks desperate for news," Starscream said with a shrug. "I'll wait until Vos indicates one way or the other if it's even interested in a treaty. You don't know that they will be."

Optimus actually chuckled at that. "I was given a suitable designation. Your timing is reasonable to me. I will never stop trying to bring about more civil relations though. It is my nature."

"Good, you'll need a lot of it," Starscream said, relaxing. Pathfinder crawled onto one of his shoulders and Fyat jumped onto the other, both of them whistle-clicking curiously. "Not yet, he's still resting," Starscream said with a low, reassuring trill. Pathfinder whistled and climbed back up to Optimus's shoulder, chattering to the grounder. Fyat made her way down Starscream's front. Starscream gave a low warning whistle and she chirped, then nestled into her carrier's arms with the smaller hatchling, covering him with her frame.

"She's got quite the protector drive," Optimus hummed happily at the truth while he reached up to stroke Pathfinder's back with one finger. "They're all so different, even so young."

"I'll be surprised if she isn't an Action," Starscream said with a fond trill. "The others I'm less sure of."

"Tell me about the roles, again?" Optimus asked with a nuzzle as Farsight began to chirp at Pathfinder to come down and play.

" _Traditionally_ ," Starscream said, and couldn't emphasize the glyph enough, "Orders lead, in trine, flock, and society. Actions protect and guard, and most of them are quick to temper. Visions carry and care for the hatchlings, raise them, defend them from within the eyrie. Not everyone fits their role so well."

"Such as you," Optimus gave an affectionate rumble. "You would have been better suited as an Order, no matter how good you are at caring for the sparklings."

Starscream smirked. "I'm pleased you noticed," he said, and helped Pathfinder safely down to the ground. Farsight pounced on him immediately and the two rolled away. Fyat watched, but stayed where she was over her smaller sibling. Starscream hummed and Stratus began to stir, aqua optics flickering. Fyat perked and started to chirp-click excitedly.

"Perhaps they would enjoy spending some time in the garden, now that all are awake?" Optimus suggested, though in honesty he wanted to get Starscream out under open sky again. The Seeker needed it.

"Yes, _please_ ," Starscream said, and set both hatchlings down so he could stand up and stretch. Stratus mimicked him and then pounced on Fyat before they were both scooped back up into Starscream's arms. Optimus bent down and offered his hand for Pathfinder and Farsight to climb up on. They headed out into the gardens and all four hatchlings trilled their excitement of one of their favorite places to be as soon as they realized where they were going. Stratus climbed up to Starscream's helm and chattered into his audial, looking up and quivering with excitement. "I can't wait to take them flying," Starscream said as they stepped out into the open air.

"Soon," Optimus rumbled with matching eagerness as they set the sparklings down to play in and around a fountain that had become their greatest enjoyment, right along with Optimus's shower and hot oil pool. "I know it will never be soon enough, but it will be soon."

"Once they have their armor," Starscream said, settling down on the ground to watch the eager playing. "Feel free to indulge yourself in some wing rubs," he added to Optimus.

Optimus chuckled and reached out to work his fingers along the sensitive planes and cabling to enjoy the sounds and teek it generated in his mate as they lounged in the sun and watched their creations play.

"My flock will want them to live in the eyrie," Starscream commented after a while, frowning.

"It is your choice, is it not?" Optimus asked while he continued to massage his Seeker into purring metal jelly.

"Umm..." Starscream squirmed with pleasure. "Not really. Not legally. Technically. But there isn't exactly precedent, so maybe an argument could be made... mmm. I'm sure if I screech loud enough--" He was suddenly shoved to the side. "Hey, _what_ \--" 

He had a moment to see Optimus diving over him and on top of the hatchlings before the explosion hit and whited out his vision, and then slammed into him and everything blacked out.

* * *

"Hmm, always so serious," Sucre purred as lifted his head from where he was crouching between Whiplash's thighs, then crawled up to stretch his frame out over his lover's. He made a point of slowly licking his lips of all evidence before pressing in for a kiss from the black minibot.

"Sparked that way," Whiplash moaned when the contact ended, his hands sliding eagerly along his lover's sleek, artistic frame. He cracked a bit of a grin. "Someone has to be, with Jazz around."

"Mhmm." Sucre trailed the tip of his glossa along Whiplash's jawline, then down his neck and along the collar of his chest armor, settling at the nape above his spark and teasing along the seam. "Makes getting you to relax just that much better."

A shiver of anticipation slid through Whiplash's frame as his chest plates unlocked with a swirl of emotions that were only half his own. Desire, want, affection, those were all of the mech. Fear, _danger_ , _forbidden_ , those were coding, but made the mech all the more eager for it.

Sucre groaned, lowering his mouth to the offered crystal of his lover, as dark as the rest of the mech was, with texture that looked more like steel than quartz. He shifted into a straddle over Whiplash's waist and put his hands on his lover's shoulders, slowly traveling down along his arms until their hands met and fingers linked. Their palms pressed flush together and Sucre x-vented, ghosting warm air over the chamber as spark energy licked back at him.

Under him Whiplash was rigid in frame but wild in field. The show was erotic, the vulnerability to a trusted lover was far more so. Even the light licking touches were already generating a visible charge in his frame.

"I love getting you like this," Sucre whispered, lips still against the chamber. He shivered and his own armor cracked open down the middle, lavender spark with a ruby halo spilling warm light onto Whiplash's frame. The pale pink light from Whiplash's spark mixed with it and the two moaned together as a hard surge of charge went through the matte black frame. 

The alert that went out over the encrypted SpecOps comm systems made them both freeze, and then Sucre cursed sharply at the priority.

"Seriously?" Whiplash snarled as he closed his armor and forcefully dumped his charge. "Twice in a row. Someone is getting _hurt_."

::'Lash.:: Jazz's voice held no humor, even though his SIC had to know where he was and what he was doing, and would normally find the whole thing hilarious. ::Prime's gardens. Get there. It's a ... well, I'd rather get fragged by Unicron, personally.::

"In the unlikely event you get free time before I have to ship out, let me know," Sucre said with a sigh after pinging the SpecOps net with his ID and finding it included in lockdown orders.

"I will," Whiplash shifted to claim a short but passionate kiss from his long-time lover and then was gone, trusting Sucre to be alone in his quarters as he rushed for the underground highways that went all over Iacon. ::Who's gray?:: he demanded from Jazz.

::I'm still trying to clear the smoke and figure that out,:: Jazz said. ::But there are at least five potentials for it and the screechy one isn't among that count.::

::Primus... We just _got_ him! We finally get a Prime who gives a thought about Cybertron and there's already an attempt _inside_ the Residence?:: Whiplash snarled as he reached the central highway and transformed, racing for the gardens. ::How bad off is the Seeker?::

::Prowl's elbow-deep in 'im,:: Jazz said. ::He'll live, I think. This explosive is craftsmanship, 'Lash. One'a ours. I have confirmation on the Prime, still living. Ratchet ain't cursin' though.::

::What about the bitlets?:: Whiplash asked grimly as he shot out of the tunnels and skidded into the corridor that would lead to the scene. ::Or were they too blown away to be IDed this fast?::

::Hold,:: Jazz said, and the comm went silent for a few moments. ::I detect four different frequencies of vocalizations from under Prime. We need ta get him stabilized and moved before we can get ta them, but they're alive. They wouldn't be if Prime wasn't on top of 'em.:: The relief in his voice was clear.

::Crazy move, but I'm not surprised. We did know from the start that keeping him functioning despite himself would be the biggest challenge.:: Whiplash allowed his relief to show as he pulled up and transformed to focus on the center of the blast, the fountain pond that the hatchlings liked to play in. There wasn't much left, but as he knelt to pick through the debris he found little bits and pieces that he knew would lead them to the answer if they could put the puzzle together correctly. Not many could do this.

Jazz came over from where he'd been watching Prowl work on the Seeker. Ratchet and three of his assistants were working furiously on the Prime, and a fourth was helping Prowl. "Same conclusion as me," Jazz said in a low voice as he knelt down and saw the pieces that Whiplash was picking at.

"Something's made our assassin nervous enough to be sloppy," Whiplash hummed and stood to walk by Starscream. ::We'll catch him this time.:: He paused, his field flawlessly neutral as he teeked each of the two conscious mecha. ::Just how closely have you been watching Prowl?::

There was a pause, and then, ::Ah, 'Lash, ya really gonna make me go there?:: But he could tell that Jazz was already reviewing and replaying everything he knew about the Praxian.

::Teek him yourself. The spikes of excitement and anticipation are not right,:: Whiplash replied.

"Either investigate or help out," Prowl snapped at them both without breaking his efforts to keep the Seeker in front of him from booting up just yet while the actual medic did field repairs. "This is neither the time nor place to stare at me."

"We are investigating," Jazz said, crouching down on the other side of Starscream. He kept his voice low and even. "Every single Ops agent is a suspect at this point. We're watching those patrolling." On a comm to Whiplash he added, ::I don't want to spook him if it's him. You're right, those are not good.::

To his credit, Prowl didn't give an outward reaction to the statement, only a small nod of understanding as his frustration with the pair smoothed out.

::Keep a teek and optic on him,:: Whiplash replied as he stood and moved over to Ratchet. "When will he be stable enough to get the bitlets out?"

Ratchet paused for long enough to give Whiplash a disbelieving look before diving back into the sparking mass of wires that was the Prime's entire back. He shook his head. "Gimmie twenty kliks minimum before we move him.:: 

Whiplash inclined his helm and began to filter through the SpecOps net and the initial orders Jazz had sent out, checking up on all the local agents. He'd grabbed a quarter of them to guard the gardens, a quarter of them to station around the palace, and the rest were holding in an emergency lockdown and freeze. No one had been left out of the response. More importantly, no one had been singled out. 

::I can already think of dozens of ways I coula missed it if it was Prowler,:: Jazz said. ::And one key reason it isn't him. Those explosives aren't something he has access to, unless he's been carrying them since Praxus. If _that's_ true, we're looking at an even bigger mess, 'cause it means Praxian SpecOps are involved.::

::Just start praying that isn't the case,:: Whiplash said. He started a careful perimeter of the blast zone, helm angled down as though he were looking at the debris, while his optics tracked every mecha in sight, hidden by the matte black finish. ::You realize you locked Sucre in my berthroom.::

::Didn't mean ta, but I think I feel sorry for this glitch when we catch him. Twice in a row now, isn't it? You get really grouchy when you don't get laid often enough.:: Jazz couldn't help but tease as he helped with Starscream so he could stay in teeking range of Prowl. ::I _really_ hope it's not Prowler. I _like_ him.::

::I know you do,:: Whiplash said. ::It's one of the things that makes him more dangerous. And you're right. Someone is getting flayed when this is over.::

::An' someone else is gettin' fragged,:: Jazz added cheekily.

::And _this_ time there better not be any interruptions to my orn off,:: Whiplash growled with a combination of teasing and very real threat to the universe at large. He relegated chatter with Jazz about nothing to a secondary processor and focused on his duties until Starscream was taken away, his frame stabilized enough for transport. It left both Jazz and Prowl free to move about, and Whiplash kept a careful optic on the Praxian even as he was impressed by the methodology, but also by his speed. It was a reminder that this mecha, for whatever else he was good at, was an Enforcer, a detective, and the way his frame began to relax was a reminder of how much he loved his former function.

A shift in Ratchet's manner alerted him to another, far more important change. "Good news?" he asked, not hiding his hope.

"If you think anything about this could result in _good_ news," Ratchet growled. "But _sure_ , why not, it's good news. We're moving him, get ready to grab the bitlets."

"Right," Whiplash nodded. "Jazz, Prowl, could use some hands over here to grab small running things."

The pair moved to join him, and as if they sensed their impending release, the trapped hatchlings began to shriek louder, a discordant chorus of worry and stress. Jazz got on one side, Whiplash on the other, while Prowl hung back slightly and the medics all got into place with the hover-stretcher. 

Ratchet directed them as one and the Prime's frame was lifted up. It was carefully moved to the stretcher, but Whiplash and Jazz didn't see any of that. Two hatchlings bolted one way, a third in the opposite, and the smallest stayed huddled and shaking where he was, crying out in a distress call for Starscream. The little one had no way of knowing his creator wasn't able to hear him, or even in the area anymore. Whiplash dove for the singular one, while Jazz went after the pair. Both were peripherally aware that Prowl didn't move for the first fraction of a klik after they had, and then suddenly he was _there_ , outmaneuvering Jazz to grab the pair with a perfect grip that would not damage them but also kept them from attacking him.

Jazz immediately looked around for the other two, saw Whiplash already holding both, and gave a relieved x-vent before looking up at Prowl. "Nice catch," he said over the racket of shrieking, honestly impressed. He tried to get as much of that into his field as he could. He couldn't tell what Prowl felt about it, since his teek was solidly of satisfaction with flickers of pride from catching the screeching things without causing damage.

"Thank you," Prowl responded, his tone calmer than his field, though that too settled quickly as Whiplash handed his catch to Jazz and shooed them both to follow the path Ratchet had taken.

::Keep a teek on him. I want to know _exactly_ how he responds to news that Prime will live, or die,:: Whiplash instructed his agent.

::Gotcha boss,:: Jazz said. ::Ya gonna stay out here?::

::Someone has to keep an optic on the scene,:: Whiplash said, frowning at mess before him.

::Hey, why don't ya let me do that, huh?:: Jazz said, harmonics making it clear that he wasn't being serious. ::You take bitlet-sitting duties, it's the least I can do.::

::Nope, you have _Prowl_ sitting duties,:: Whiplash teased back, long accustomed to his SIC's processors. ::Just try to keep your thoughts on the job.::

::Sure thing, 'Lash.:: Jazz tried to rearrange the hissing, scratching, and biting hatchling into a way where he wasn't being turned into quite as much of a scratching post. Fyat was turning into a very sharp handful. Her smaller brother was loud and distressed, but fairly passive. Prowl's pair were exactly as he's grabbed them across their backs, and while they thrashed and screamed, they couldn't get to him.

They got into medbay to see chaos surrounding the Prime, who was face down with dozens of instruments pulled and in use, the entire team of medics moving around him. Starscream was motionless on a berth to the side, being monitored by one assistant. The sight of the Seeker sent all four hatchlings into a renewed frenzy of screeches and struggles.

"Find a box or something for them to be in!" Ratchet snarled at the pair and their manic cargo. "It'll be orns before I get to him."

" _Orns?_ " Jazz repeated, and send a very pointed comm about the assignment off to Whiplash. His only answer was a chuckle and he responded with several choice images of Sucre in various erotic poses from his Ops file. He started looking around for something, anything to dump the hatchlings in.

"Jazz, put the smallest one on Starscream and please empty and retrieve a storage box no smaller than three by three," Prowl took command and it looked _natural_ for him. "Please comm someone who can get into the nest to retrieve a couple fluffy blankets."

Well that left Jazz with a conundrum. He didn't trust a single Ops agent outside of Whiplash at the moment, he couldn't go himself, and he couldn't demand that Prowl come with or risk raising his suspicions. He set Stratus down on Starscream's chest and the crying immediately turned into quiet, pleading chirping as the hatchling tucked against his creator's neck. Jazz got a swipe across his arm from Fyat, bit down on the curse, and went for the medical storage supplies before the obvious answer hit. He sent a comm over to one of the palace servants as he dumped tubing out of a container and brought it back to Starscream's berth, and gratefully dropped Fyat inside.

Prowl immediately placed the two larger hatchlings in there with her and regarded the quiet one that was with the Seeker. "He'll go in when he moves again," he decided, just in time to see Fyat climbing on top of her brothers and readying a leap to the edge. He allowed her to launch and caught her smoothly in mid-air. Instead of putting her back in, he lifted her to optic level. "I know you understand Imperial, little one. Behave or be put in medical stasis."

She chirred at him, a defiant sound, but when she was placed back into the box she stood still, watching Prowl with unbroken focus. Her brothers continued to call for Starscream, and after a moment, she joined back in. 

"I would trade this entire orn for getting fragged by Unicron," Jazz said, leaning against Starscream's berth. "I am not cut out for hatchling care."

"There are far worse ways to spend an orn," Prowl said with the kind of level certainty that came from hard experience, and served as a reminder to Jazz that Prowl just did not do jokes. "Watch them for a klik," he said before walking towards the medberth with the Prime.

Jazz had to divide his attention between hatchlings and Prowl, but didn't miss the relief that fluttered through normally still doorwings after Prowl had stared at Prime for most of a klik. Jazz also noted that Ratchet didn't shoo Prowl away, and Prowl didn't ask questions.

He frowned. None of it seemed right. 

Rustling in the box drew his attention and he looked down to see Fyat standing on top of Pathfinder and stretching up towards the edge. She froze when she looked at him, then hissed and climbed back down. The arrival of the blankets from their nest provided a momentary distraction for them all, but the bottom of the box was soon soft and the hatchlings keening again.

"Yeah I thought so," Jazz said, turning back to watch the medics. They looked stressed, and Ratchet was barking out orders. Jazz could see exposed crystal and sparklight that was flickering in unsteady rhythms. There was a flurry of movement, and then stillness. 

And then Ratchet's entire frame slumped with relief. "It's stabilized," he announced.

After that Prowl moved back over to Jazz. "He will recover," he said quietly, his field still quivering with relief, then regarded the hatchlings. "The smart one is Fyat, correct?"

"That's her," Jazz said, as they both regarded the tiny creature. Bright red optics looked back steadily and if possible, she seemed to be aware that her shrill cries were intensely uncomfortable for the grounders. 

Jazz's attention, though, was on Prowl, and the teek he wasn't expecting. It wasn't disappointment, or failure, but gradually settling into sorrow and resolution that had no sensation of action linked to it. It wasn't at all what an assassin would teek like.

It took a moment, but it finally hit. Prowl wasn't hoping Prime would deactivate, but if Prime deactivated, he'd be free, such as that meant. It meant that all of Jazz's efforts to convince the Praxian that living in Iacon wasn't a bad thing had only been minimally successful. Prowl had agreed to live, but it still wasn't enjoying it.

"What does she usually play with?" Prowl's question distracted Jazz from his thoughts.

"She, ah, she likes puzzle games," Jazz said. "She has this one with shapes--gotta get the shape oriented in the right way ta fit kinda thing. Different levels, some ya can only see part of the shapes, some ya only get to see them for a nanoklik before you have to do it on memory. She likes shiny things too."

"And the big ones ... Farsight and Pathfinder?" Prowl asked as he reached into his subspace for a datapad and fiddled with it briefly, then flicked it in her field of view until he had her attention. "You will be with your creator as soon as possible," he offered the datapad, and Jazz could see a shape-oriented game queued up on it.

"Umm, wrestling and splashing in a pool," Jazz gave a shrug as Fyat grabbed the datapad that was nearly as big as she was, studied it, stared at Prowl, looked at her carrier for a long moment and settled for the time being. Pathfinder and Farsight quieted and looked at her, then cuddled in around her.

Jazz gave a sigh of relief. "Now we just gotta figure out what ta feed 'em if carrier here isn't online for several orns."

"Ratchet formulated energon for them, though I don't know if they drink it," Quickstrip suggested from the side, speaking for the first time as he looked up from Starscream's readings.

"If they get hungry enough they will," Prowl said, then looked at Jazz. "Do you want first watch or second?"

"Second," Jazz said. "Gotta go talk ta 'Lash."

Prowl flicked his doorwings in agreement-dismissal and settled next to the box where he could keep an optic on everything as he risked his fingers in stroking the hatchlings. As Jazz walked away he heard hissing and couldn't help but look back. Prowl made a face like one of them had scratched or bitten, and then his doorwings fluttered and he gave a low trill, and all sound from the box stopped. Right before leaving, Jazz saw his hand start to move in a petting motion.

Jazz couldn't help but grin. Who knew Prowl had caretaker coding?

That thought entertained Jazz until he met up with Whiplash in the commander's office. "I'm sure Prowl didn't have a hand in it. He was relieved when Ratchet said Prime would survive. Reactions are weird, but I think it's 'cause he's conflicted about being in Iacon still."

Whiplash cocked his head, frowning. "He was excited about the Prime's state ... because it might mean getting to leave Iacon?"

"I think so," Jazz nodded. "Queue up medbay from a breem ago. Watch him from when he walked away from me to when he returned."

Whiplash was still while he reviewed the footage, then x-vented and shook his head. "Not so sure how much we want a mech around who would be happy at the Prime's passing, no matter what the reason," he said. "But I agree with you."

"We can work on that after we sort out this. He's not an immediate threat," Jazz relaxed a bit that his assessment was agreed with. "What did you find?"

"Someone got sloppy," Whiplash said, then grimaced. "Someone that _we trust_ got sloppy. I can't think of a single mecha I suspect more than any others." He gave a frustrated wave over the documents spread out all over his desk. "Pit, even Sucre's in the mix. Even _you_ are in the mix, and as far as I'm concerned, you should be keeping me in mind as well." He rubbed his face. "I'm piecing together the bomb as well as I can. Some of this stuff is restricted on a level that narrows it down, but that's all it does. Narrow it down."

"I'm not sure which is worse, that someone we trained got sloppy, or that someone we trust has turned on us," Jazz muttered as he scanned the reports and flopped down in the chair he often used. "Looks like it's narrowed down to thirty-two mecha as the potential source by clearance, but only six of them have been in the palace during the timeframe required to set the explosive."

Whiplash handed over another datapad. 

Jazz glanced over it. "Oh. With that you could make a..." 

"Remote setting, long-term storage," Whiplash said, nodding. "Not to mention that I would believe every one of these designations capable of getting in here without us knowing."

"So thirty-two." 

"Thirty-four." 

"I'm not counting us, 'Lash," Jazz said with a scowl, flipping through pages. 

"What happened to cause someone to go sloppy?" Whiplash wondered out loud. "The first attempt was subtle and elegant. This is messy."

"A rush job. Something caused him to panic," Jazz scowled again. "But what changed? I can't think of anything that would trigger it. Nothing big is coming up. Prime didn't change his stance on anything from a vorn ago."

"I think we can assume that either Starscream or the bitlets were the target," Whiplash said. "There are better places to take out Prime, but that fountain is _specifically_ a place for the Seekers. 

"But they waited until Prime was there," Jazz said. "Unless that was just coincidence? Or maybe a bonus. He is out there a lot with them. But let's say you're right and the Seekers were the only real target. What's changed?"

"The bitlets are growing. Maybe something with them reaching speaking or flight age?" Whiplash shrugged. "Starscream has mentioned that he can take them flying when their armor begins to show. Once he can do that, preventing him from returning to Vos becomes much more difficult."

"Maybe it's personal, against Starscream?" Jazz suggested. "The mech is enough to get on anyone's nerves."

"Yes, but is he annoying enough to prompt _one of these mecha_ to take a risk like this, knowing the consequences?" 

"Do ya _really_ want me ta answer that..." 

"Be serious, Jazz," Whiplash said. "I can't think of a reason Starscream would be a target for _this_. He could have already returned to Vos if he'd really wanted. So far, all he's done is exist. Bitlets too."

"So we're back to the original question. What's changed in the last two, three decaorns to prompt such a sloppy attempt _now_ ," Jazz ruffled his armor and glared accusingly at the datapad, as if it was withholding vital information. "Or at least, when will we get results from the techs about this ... and who's protecting the techs from our traitor?"

Whiplash shook his head. "No one. I'm treating it like a normal investigation. Standard tests and procedures, nothing looking at the details. If our would-be Prime-killer checks on the work, hopefully he won't spook." The matte black mech lowered his voice. "All the detail work is off record right now, and I went outside Ops for it." 

"Who'd ya grab?" Jazz asked, frowning. 

"Mucit," Whiplash said. "Signaled and put the pickup instructions in a dead drop, he should have it by tonight."

Jazz nodded. "He's a good one," he said, musing out loud. "Likely to give real results too. Not too loyal to Prime, but not disloyal either. What do you know about his new apprentice? Wheeljacker or somethin'."

"I scoped him out once, few centuries ago," Whiplash said. "Good processor, makes incredible leaps, but too unstable for Ops work. He'll do well with Mucit." He waved Jazz off. "Go on, get out, I'm going to sit here and read these until something clicks, or we get results back. One or the other. And if you stay I'm making you help."

"Gotcha boss," Jazz grinned and scooted for the door after putting the datapads down. He'd downloaded their contents anyway, if he wanted to think on it.

For now, Jazz had other work to do.

* * *

Jazz headed back to the medbay a bit early and even from outside the door he could hear sounds of repairs being done on the Prime's frame. He palmed the entry and headed in, looking around for any significant changes, found none, and made his way over to Prowl and the sparklings. The box was quiet and Jazz peered in, seeing four sets of optics looking back at him. The bedding was tucked around the bottom in a sort of mini nest. "Stratus start to fuss?" he asked, looking at the smallest, who chirped at hearing his designation. 

"They all fuss," Prowl answered with an almost amused harmonic that Jazz perked up on the inside at. It was more _alive_ that he was used to, and he liked it. "When they're hungry, which seems to be every other joor. When they miss their creator, which is most of the time they aren't distracted. We should be able to move Starscream and the hatchlings into a private room so they can move around and crawl on him. It might keep them quieter. Some of the time."

From behind, Ratchet muttered something about _anything_ being better than the conditions he was currently being forced to work in. 

Jazz cocked his head down at the quiet hatchlings. "Might be good for them," he said. "Don't want them to think he's deactivated or anything though if he's just there. How did Stratus seem to respond to it?"

"He calmed for a while, then began to cry and claw at Starscream's mouth. It seems he was hungry. Then he fell into recharge. When he woke up he was fussy, but not hungry, so I put him in with the others. They played some, refueled regularly and were rarely quiet," Prowl looked down as he stroked Fyat's back, earning a pleasant chirr from the feisty little creature. "Most of the time where they attacked me, it was clearly in play. I'm rather amazed the Prime and Starscream don't have far more damage to their finish most orns."

Jazz chuckled. "Screamer's good at dodgin', Prime's too big ta notice much. Hey there, bitlets," he said, bending down to look closer at them. Fyat swiped at him, but it wasn't a serious move. He glanced over his shoulder next. "Ratch, I'm takin' 'em next door unless someone's already in there." 

"It's empty," Ratchet said. " _Please_ get them out of audial range."

The moment Prowl picked up the box they began chirping and keening, distressed at moving further away from Starscream. Ratchet groaned, and Prowl hurried to get them through the door while Jazz and the medic's assistant who seemed to have been assigned permanently to Starscream got the Seeker's berth ready to move. The racket coming from the hatchlings seemed to grow louder with every moment and Ratchet was glaring death by the time they were ready. 

They pushed Starscream into the room in time to see Fyat pulling herself over the edge of the box, only to be scooped up by Prowl. She caught sight of Starscream and keened, reaching for him, and then when Prowl went to put her back in the box, started to attack his hand. To the Praxian's credit, he didn't drop or strike her, and Jazz could see from the oozing wounds that it must have hurt. He carefully extracted her from where she'd hooked into his hand while walking over to the stasis-locked Seeker.

"If that berth can lower to the floor, it would be good for them to be able to crawl over him," Prowl recommended with a relieved quiver of his doorwings when Fyat stopped focusing on him and focused on the fact that Starscream was coming closer.

She began struggling and reaching, nearly squirming out of Prowl's hold before he could set her down safely onto her stasis-locked carrier. Quickstrip got the berth lowered down and Jazz went for the box. It was just about a third of his total height and he ended up just pushing it over instead of dealing with carrying any of the sharp hatchlings inside. 

Fyat trilled her concern as she crawled up Starscream's front, and Jazz was thankful that worst of the visible damage was on the Seeker's back. He didn't want to think about the hatchlings facing their carrier with most of his face blown away. 

They got all four hatchlings settled on Starscream's frame and sat to watch, relieved for the temporary silence. 

"Can I just say," Jazz said after a little while, "How glad I am that we don't do that?" He gestured at the hatchlings.

"Very much agreed," Prowl held back most of a shudder. "They're cute in an alien way at a distance, but what possessed Primus to give anyone a form where they can't effectively communicate?"

"You still think they're from Primus?" Jazz asked curiously, glancing over. "Not the most popular opinion out there."

"They have a spark," Prowl could only shrug slightly. "I do believe that all sparks come from Primus, and all will return to Him. They also came from Cybertron, like all of us, even if they have long since abandoned that heritage."

Jazz nodded once. "Ya know they think that Vector Sigma is as disconnected from Primus as lotsa grounders think their way is," he said. "Not so sure that rift'll heal anytime soon."

"Agreed, unfortunately." Prowl watched the scene of four hatchlings crawling over their creator and giving worried chirps and nuzzles, trying to get him to respond. "Mecha will always find some group to treat as substandard and unworthy of legal protection. I do not understand it, but I know it is true."

"Way 'a the world," Jazz said. "Oh..." Farsight had started to push and tug at Starscream's mouth, trilling pleadingly. "Guess that's hungry, then, yeah? Y'wanna show me how ya get 'em ta fuel?"

"Of course," Prowl walked over to Farsight as he pulled a small cube of pale energon from subspace and casually scooped the hatchling up so his hand was under its aft and his arm supported it upright, then carefully offered the cube without letting go. Farsight immediately grabbed for it and made no fuss as Prowl continued to control the cube's angle. "I've found that they fuel best at this angle, and if you can manage to be face to face with them while they drink it will go better. That is a good deal more difficult, however."

"I'll bring the store of cubes over," Quickstrip said before slipping away.

Jazz watched dubiously. "I think it helps that they fit in your hands," he said. The other three hatchlings began their chorus of pleading for fuel and Jazz reached for Stratus. Fyat immediate hissed and swiped at him, but Jazz dodged and got the smallest seekerling away from his siblings. Prowl paused for a moment to pass another cube over and Jazz got it situated so he could tip it into Stratus's mouth. He started drinking immediately. 

"Not so hard," Jazz said, pleased. 

Together with Quickstrip, they got all four hatchlings fueled and then placed back in the box when they began fussing too loudly over Starscream's lack of response. The shriek-chirping began all over again. 

Jazz sighed as he reclined back on his elbows, looking up at Prowl. "How ya doin', mech?"

"Much better now that I have an algorithm that tunes this particular noise out," Prowl answered as he moved to wiggle his fingers in front of Fyat again. "It's strange to have caretaker coding active for this long, but it is tolerable. Have you made any progress?"

Jazz stifled his groan. Right, caretaker coding. That was probably the warmth he was seeing and feeling. "Not much," he admitted. "Some." He gestured around, a silent, _Not here._

Prowl nodded. "Do you have any questions before I begin my duty shift?"

"Nah, I got it," Jazz said, and watched Prowl leave. He stared at the door for a moment before looking down at the hatchlings. "I guess it's just us for a while. Hope ya like music."

The hatchlings looked up at him in silence for a moment, and then started up their screeching.

* * *

Starscream regained awareness to a horrific screeching that he belatedly identified as himself demanding his seekerlings, demanding to know where they were, demanding to know what happened. Mostly, though, demanding to be given his creations _right now_.

"Just let him have them. He won't shut up until you do," Ratchet's familiar voice bellowed from a ways away. "And for Pit's sake give him another painkiller!"

"Yes, sir," an unfamiliar voice, one with the innate harmonics of a medic, responded and there was the movement of pedes before Starscream finally forced his optics to boot.

Four chirping, squirming bundles were placed in his arms before he could spend much time looking around. They clung to him, their shrill, alarmed cries immediately pulling his attention without giving him any conscious choice in the matter. "Shh, shh," he murmured, touching each one of them until the shrill shrieking had softened into a quiet, nervous chorus. "There, that's better," he said, and looked around. 

Medbay. "What happened? Where's Prime?"

"In surgery," the medic standing closest to him responded. "He was badly damaged by the blast. We found him on top of the little ones. It undoubtedly saved their sparks."

" _What_ blast?" Starscream snarled, holding his hatchlings tighter. " _What happened?_ Were any of them hurt?" He looked around. " _Where_ is Ratchet!" 

Something struck the top of his helm. "Right here, you shrieky disaster. Stop yelling."

Starscream's wings jerked upwards sharply, only to have a strong hand shove them back down with a teek that warned that the Physician to the Prime knew exactly what both moves meant.

"A bomb went off in the garden. Prime shielded the sparklings with his frame. They are fine. He is not. Neither are you, by the way, and if you want to be repaired sooner rather than later, you'll cuddle your creations, stop shrieking and let me get back to work. You're only online because I was afraid the hatchlings would hurt themselves trying to get to you."

Starscream looked down at them and belatedly realized that everything hurt and he couldn't move anything below his waist, and he was propped into something of a sitting position with his knees out, forming a holding spot for the hatchlings. "Oh." 

"Yeah, _oh,_ " Ratchet said. "Just make sure none of them fall off the berth, and especially keep Stratus calm. We can't afford him having an event right now."

"Go fix Prime, so you can fix me," Starscream tried to make it sound like an order even as he gentled his voice and lilting the harmonics for the hatchlings. 

"It the pain blockers start to wear off, just _politely_ tell Quickstrip you're hurting," Ratchet said firmly. "If I have to come out again, I'm dropping you into stasis and caging those little ... _creations_ of yours on your chest."

Starscream hissed at him, wings starting to rattle before they were grabbed and forced to still again. "If you have something to say about my _creations_ say it after I'm repaired and can rip you apart." 

Ratchet snorted as he turned to go back to surgery. "I will."

Starscream mostly resisted the urge to growl after him, settling for a low rumble in his engines before turning back to his creations and checking them over one by one, inspecting every part of their protoforms for damage or injury that may have been missed. When he couldn't find anything, he relaxed a little, pulling them close, and looked around for the other medic. "Hey, Quicksnap or whatever it is," he said, once he found him. "How the frag did a bomb get in the garden?" 

"Someone with access planted it there," the medic answered simply. "It wasn't a well executed plan."

"Well if it wasn't a well executed plan, who's the someone?" Starscream asked sweetly.

"Hasn't been captured yet," Quickstrip shrugged. "I don't expect the fool will last long after Whiplash catches him."

"How close are they?" Starscream asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "What leads do they have?" 

"I don't know details like that," Quickstrip said. His voice was calm and laced with soothing subharmonics. 

"Well can you get me someone less _useless?_ " Starscream said, unable to keep the snarl back any longer.

"I could, but that would take them off the hunt for the mecha who attempted to assassinate the Prime, you and the sparklings," Quickstrip replied, still calm.

Starscream snarled in helpless frustration, and then immediately had to trill to the hatchlings when they began their anxious chorus again. He trilled and clicked, petting them, and fell into a brooding silence once they were calmed. 

After a while, the silence began to feel like a weight on his spark and a glance at his chronometer showed how long he had been in here. How long Ratchet had, presumably, been working on the Prime. 

Far too long for a medic of his skill. 

"...How badly hurt is he?" he asked. 

"He'll survive and should recover fully," Quickstrip answered smoothly. "He looked worse that it really is, according to Ratchet."

"But he'll be okay," Starscream said. 

"He'll be okay," Quickstrip said warmly. 

Starscream x-vented and slumped, letting his optics flicker offline. Someone wanted his creations gone. Someone also probably wanted _him_ gone, but that wasn't nearly as important to the Seeker's mind. "Prime saved them?" 

"Your creations? Yes. If he hadn't shielded them, I doubt anything would have been left of them to find," Quickstrip said quietly. "The blast would have killed, but the shrapnel from the crystals does the real damage. They're very lucky he moved as quickly as he did."

"Yes, they are," Starscream said quietly.


	15. Break in the Case

Jazz found himself shoved out of medbay not even halfway through Starscream's repairs, with Ratchet shouting that there'd better be a place for the hatchlings to go as soon as the Seeker was repaired and he was to go ensure it. 

So after getting into Starscream's nest without either of his hand-picked guards noticing, Jazz began to scope out the entire place, while simultaneously watching the recordings going back to the last time the Prime and the Seekers had been in here. He and Whiplash had set up a private feed after the first egg theft, separate from the official feed that their agents monitored, and only accessible by them.

It all showed completely normal behavior by the Seeker, the sparklings and the Prime. No one came in that wasn't expected, which was mostly Ratchet. There just wasn't anything there.

He frowned at nothing in particular as he squirmed his way through the tangle of broken furniture and scrap metal, cursing Seekers, assassins, medics, whatever he could think of as he personally checked every single nook and cranny. He wished he was about an eighth his size. 

He rewound the recording and started over from a few joors before the explosion. They were closing in on the last breeding ring, but that wasn't news. All of SpecOps knew that.

He stopped in the middle of the tangle and sighed, bent over backwards and staring at the ceiling. 

What would Starscream do when he got back to Vos? He couldn't tell his people anything that Optimus wouldn't already. In fact, Jazz could tell them far worse than what Starscream could. Probably wouldn't, but he could. They really only needed to know what Starscream was witness to, which was bad enough. And if there wasn't Starscream...

Jazz stopped. 

Contact with Vos. They'd started planning for it. Of course Optimus would admit to everything that had happened on his planet, that was just the mech he was, but if they hadn't found Starscream--

::Whiplash.::

::What did you find?:: came the immediate reply.

::Need ta see you. In your office?:: Jazz started to untangle himself. 

::Be there in five,:: Whiplash replied smoothly.

When Jazz arrived in nine kliks, the matte black mech was waiting and ready for him, his frame tense with anticipation.

"What would we be advising Prime ta do if we didn't have survivors?" Jazz said as soon as the door closed. 

"What he had been doing; focusing on Cybertron and letting the moons deal with themselves," Whiplash gave his SIC a curious look. "You believe the attacks were an effort to keep communications with Vos closed?"

"Starscream and the hatchlings are _evidence,_ " Jazz said. "Like I said, the only thing he's done is exist, but that's all he _has_ ta do! Vos has never been able ta confirm the existence of this market, and when Prime goes ta them, no matter how many we've taken out, we really don't have any way to _know_ that they will stay peaceful. It's a risk no matter which way ya slice it. But Starscream all but ensures that Prime will give them the full truth."

"This Prime, at least," Whiplash gave a sigh. "So we have a probable motive. I still can't think of anyone who fits it."

"Deep cover Cybertron loyalist," Jazz said. " _Really_ deep cover. Didn't get a breakthrough on that, though. Guess we're back ta waiting. Those hatchlings _can't_ be alone, not ever. I trust you, me, an' Prowl, an' that's about it."

"Agreed," Whiplash x-vented. "Sucre as well. Not because he's my lover," he added sharply. "Because I know his spark. He's no more a traitor than I am."

Jazz snorted. "You an' your spark play. I believe ya."

"So we have four, three of which we know Starscream will tolerate close to his creations," Whiplash rubbed his face. "Thoughts on how to draw our traitor out? I'd really rather this was settled before Prime contacts Vos."

"Nn." Jazz rubbed his forehelm. "Set up a fake meeting with Vos, see who sabotages it?"

"Better than risking the bitlets," Whiplash stretched his arms upwards with a groan. "With any luck at all, Mucit will have results by the time we have a plan in place. Got anything else for me?"

"Nada," Jazz said, taking a moment to appreciate the matte black frame as armor loosened and then settled with soft clicks. "Your turn for a stroke of brilliance anyway."

"Then shoo. Guard our Seekers, work on your Praxian and I'll work out a plan for nailing our traitor," Whiplash chuckled as waved his amorous agent away.

* * *

"Now the first thing for you to know is that you are a giant, self-sacrificing idiot." 

That was Ratchet's voice. Optimus groaned. He ached all over. 

"The second thing to know is that you are fine, Starscream is fine, and the hatchlings are fine." 

His vision came online and Optimus looked up at his Physician. "What happened?"

"From what your demonic twins and that Praxian have said, there was a bomb in the fountain the hatchlings like to play in. It went off and you jumped onto the hatchlings to save them like the giant, self-sacrificing idiot you are," Ratchet huffed. "Do you have _any_ idea how loud those things can be? Or for that matter, that your Praxian seems very attached to them."

"To ... bombs?" Optimus asked, processors fuzzy. 

"To the _hatchlings_ you dolt!" 

"Oh." Optimus frowned. "Yes they are quite loud. Prowl is attached to them?"

"It seems like it. He can actually keep them quiet more often than not," Ratchet huffed. "They let him handle them, too. Something they definitely don't tolerate from most."

Optimus nodded as the notes started to scroll by. "Were any of the hatchlings hurt? Was Starscream hurt? Where are they?"

"No, they were undamaged. Starscream's been repaired after sustaining serious damage and is _finally_ caring for the screeching lot. Last I heard, they're back in the nest and under even more guard than usual," Ratchet rattled off.

"I am sure that my so-called 'demon twins' are waiting to speak with me," Optimus said with a groan as he sat up. More guard than ever didn't sound like a captured assassin. "I assume that bringing me online means I can leave."

"Only to go back to the nest and back into recharge," Ratchet glared at him until he got a nod of acceptance. "Otherwise you aren't going anywhere until you can move normally. The last thing we need is for politicians or the people to see their Prime barely able to move."

"Of course," Prime sighed, carefully standing. "I feel like I was stepped on by a metrotitan." 

"You probably would have been _less_ damaged," Ratchet grumbled as a small silvery mech with lavender optics came to stand at Optimus's side. 

"Your Grace," he said with a proper bow. "My designation is Sucre, I am in Special Operations. I am here to escort you back to your nest, where I will be relieving the current guard."

"Who are the guards on rotation?" Optimus asked as he carefully followed the lithe minibot, likely only a helm taller than Jazz and with even less mass.

"Myself, Prowl, Whiplash, and Jazz," Sucre answered.

Optimus nodded and followed, focusing almost all his attention on making himself look like he wasn't in pain and with spinning gyros. Three Ops and Prowl. It sounded like Prowl had earned some very rarefied trust. Optimus couldn't help but smile slightly at that. As difficult a time as Prowl had acclimating to Iacon, far more difficulty than Orion had to being Optimus in his opinion, he deserved the trust, and the allies, and hopefully it meant that he'd soon stop looking at Jazz like he was expecting to be shot at any moment.

They walked in silence through the strangely empty halls before reaching the large double doors of the Prime's personal chambers. The standard pair of guards stood outside those, but the inside looked as empty as usual. Even the door to the inner nest was unguarded. 

The silvery mech bowed again and offered for the Prime to go in first. Optimus nodded and opened the door, but called out before stepping inside. "Starscream?"

"You're back!" The excited call was higher pitched than usual and Optimus saw the Seeker's shape through the tangle, rushing to the tunnel. "Get in here!"

"Coming," Optimus replied before ducking down with a bit-back groan of pain and made his way inside, followed by the lavender-silver minibot. He had an armful of Seeker before he could even straighten up, and even though every joint in his frame protested at the weight he held onto Starscream. The Seeker's arms were around him, legs around his waist, face pressed to his neck. At his pedes, he could hear the excited chirping of the hatchlings.

"Thank you Prowl," Optimus said, before turning his attention back to Starscream. He ran his hand up the Seeker's back, waited until he could feel all four hatchlings attached to his pedes and made his way in. He was faintly aware of Sucre making a round of the space, but he was far more focused on lowering Starscream down. The Seeker's hands came up to his face and pulled him into a kiss. 

"Sucre," Prowl inclined his helm to the minibot. "Nothing to report."

The lavender-silver mech inclined his helm and shifted so Prowl could leave. It wasn't lost on him that halfway out the Praxian's frame language became far less fluid and almost immeasurably more difficult to read. It was a transition that never ceased to confound and disturb the mech whose very survival depended on being able to read even subtle clues about desire and motive.

"Someone wants the hatchlings gone," Starscream said when he pulled away from his mate.

"Why? Why would anyone find them a threat?" Optimus couldn't help the scowl and low, angry rev of his engine despite how much it made him ache.

"I don't know," Starscream said with a low hiss that was quickly tapered off when he saw Farsight and Stratus's worried looks. Fyat and Pathfinder had already climbed up to Optimus's helm and perched on top, chirping demands at him. "But it has to be the only reason someone targeted the fountain."

Optimus focused on Sucre. "The current top three theories?"

Sucre glanced between them. "You really should wait for Whiplash." 

"That's all I get from them, too," Starscream grumbled as he reached up to grab Fyat before she could leap to the ground. "And from Whiplash I get wait and see until they know more."

"Have you tried asking Prowl?" Optimus asked with a glint of mischief.

Starscream's wings rattled with annoyance. "Oh, he's even better. 'I am not authorized to speak on that subject.' Someone _wants my hatchlings gone_ and I want to know why!"

Optimus reached out to stroke his wings and drew him into a slow kiss. "They will tell us when it's safe," he said. "I promise you." 

"They had better," Starscream grumbled. 

"I'll make sure of it." Optimus rested their forehelms together, sighing. "I'm so glad none of them were hurt," he said. "I'm glad you're okay." 

"You too," Starscream said, wrapping him in a tight hug. 

Optimus glanced at Sucre. "I don't suppose you could watch the hatchlings somewhere else for a joor." 

"Those are not my orders, your Grace," Sucre said, dipping his helm. 

"Worth a shot," Starscream said. "But I wouldn't want them out of sight right now anyway." 

"Of course," Optimus murmured, and held his hand out for the chirring Farsight to climb into his palm and curl up. "How is Stratus?" 

"Still recovering from the stress," Starscream sighed. "Apparently they shrieked for joors."

"Almost every moment that Prowl wasn't there and Starscream was not aware enough to tend to them," Sucre supplied. "Twenty one joors on, twenty one joors mostly off for three and a half orns."

"That is not their recharge cycle," Optimus didn't hide his surprise.

"No, your Grace, they were generally quiet when Prowl watched them, but not for Jazz," Sucre responded.

"I think it's the doorwings," Starscream said, watching Optimus, who, despite himself, was starting to droop. "I think you need to rest."

"Yes," Optimus admitted, and willingly allowed his mate to settle him without squashing a hatchling. "I believe Ratchet would have preferred I remain in medbay for some orns longer." He cooed and trilled as the three active hatchlings scrambled on top of him.

Starscream quickly scooped them all up and set them to the side. "Optimus needs to rest," he said firmly. "No playing while he is recharging. If you need something, bother me. All right?" 

They chirped back to him. 

"Good," Starscream said, and curled up with Optimus before creating a small nest in the bedding between them for the seekerlings. Stratus was lifted over and he quickly cuddled with his siblings. 

Starscream x-vented gratefully. "Glad you're back." 

"So am I," Optimus said, before slipping offline.

* * *

"Come on, Prowler," Jazz insisted cheerfully when Prowl balked, no matter how subtly, at entering what he knew was SpecOps territory. "I swear on my spark you'll come out just as you went in, just knowing a bit more. You're the one who offered to help."

Prowl's engine grumbled at that truth, but he followed Jazz into the lift.

"There, see?" Jazz said as the doors closed and they started to descend. "No stakes, no explosives, promise ya it's easy rollin'."

Prowl gave him a long-suffering look, but didn't actually object as he followed Jazz out of the lift and through a well-lit maze that still managed to be full of shadows until they stopped at a non-descript door. Only the glyph over the palm pad next to it warned of who resided inside.

_Whiplash_

Jazz palmed it and it opened without hesitation. Jazz slipped in, Prowl followed, and they found Whiplash waiting inside. 

"Got the results from Mucit," he said without preamble, passing out one small datachip to each of them. "Some interesting stuff."

"Indeed," Prowl hummed thoughtfully as he processed the chip's contents. "It seems our assassin made a remarkably ill-informed choice of explosives. There cannot be that many mecha to have accessed RED-641 in the last metacycle." 

"There aren't," Whiplash said, pulling up those logs. "Only two."

"They wouldn't have realized it has such a predictable half-life once it's exposed to air," Jazz said, grinning. "Doesn't affect the explosive itself but if it doesn't sit for a while first... why doesn't Mucit work for us, again?"

"Because he won't," Whiplash shrugged. "Still, we can lock down those two and find out what they used their RED for."

Jazz nodded. "Prowler, with me. We'll go pick up Nacht and 'Lash can grab Tueur."

Prowl nodded and followed Jazz out. He was well aware he might be about to witness things he considered criminal, but he did want to know just how moral Jazz was when it came to getting intel. He wanted to know how much he could trust that intel very much, and this was going to be worth it.

* * *

Optimus looked up from playing with the hatchlings with his fingers when the door opened. Starscream, who had been pacing around the nest, froze and then turned, wings high with alert. Sucre was immediately in front of the tunnel, but relaxed after a moment. 

"Just me," Whiplash called, appearing a few moments later. 

"It isn't time for guard change," Starscream said, frowning. "Is something wrong?" 

Whiplash tapped Sucre on the arm and the silvery mech inclined his helm, slipping away. Once the door was shut behind him, Whiplash faced the pair. 

"We are reasonably confident we have our mech in custody. I'm releasing you from lockdown orders, and your security will return to its former state."

Optimus perked up nearly as much as Starscream. "That is excellent news. Does Prowl have any reservations about it being settled?"

"None," Whiplash said. "He is at this moment with Jazz narrowing down our two suspects."

Optimus nodded. "Then we can finally go to my washrack? The hatchlings haven't been swimming and we haven't been clean in far too long."

"Go ahead. I cleared it myself with an explosive hunting hound. Same with the rest of the Residence. The garden was only just released to be repaired, but it'll be as good as new in a couple orns, I expect," Whiplash relaxed a bit at the relief that swept through the pair. Prime took confinement well, though not being dirty. Starscream took confinement not well at all, and bored bitlets were loud, troublesome bitlets.

Optimus glanced at Starscream and chuckled at the way Farsight and Pathfinder were shoved at him. 

"Out. Now. I want to bathe," Starscream demanded imperiously.

Optimus made sure both Fyat and Stratus were safely in Starscream's arms before he moved. Starscream followed behind and he glanced over his shoulder to see Whiplash starting a sweep of the nest, then put it out of his mind as they emerged into the hallway. 

Starscream's wings flared out immediately and the hatchlings began to chirp their excitement at getting to go _anywhere_ , and when they realized that place was Optimus's washracks, they became nearly impossible to hold onto. 

When they were finally dumped right into the heated pool filled with solvent instead of oil to chirp and paddle about happily, Starscream pushed past Optimus to get under the biggest shower. The Prime chuckled and followed him after a tender, indulgent look at his creations enjoying a luxury meant for him. His hands found Starscream's wings to rub and gently clean as he indulged in simply having hot solvent rain down on him.

" _Finally,_ " Starscream groaned, claws flexing out against the wall. The Prime hummed his relieved agreement and continued to wash his wings, and Starscream found himself wondering how to say thank you. Not for the wash--that was expected--but for never once pointing out that there was a washrack accessible from the nest that they could have used this entire time. 

Something about the space was still too strongly attached to his first impressions of it--that it was larger than the entire cell block he'd lived in for sixteen vorns. That his first trine had lived in for hundreds of vorns, and died in. He couldn't separate the two. 

But the Prime had never asked for an explanation, and Starscream had no idea how to thank him for it. 

With one wing always trained on the swimming hatchlings, he turned around and pressed Optimus against the wall, tugging him down for a kiss that was returned with an intensity that spoke of how much Optimus missed the intimacy of getting away from the hatchlings to enjoy their own frames for a few breems.

"Missed this," Optimus moaned in the brief moment their lip plates parted.

"So much," Starscream agreed. He couldn't stop himself from glancing away when Farsight's helm went under the surface and didn't reappear for a klik, just to assure himself that the hatchling was swimming serenely around the bottom. "I really wish we had a flock."

"Agreed," Optimus moaned into another heated kiss as his hands moved along Starscream's frame to encourage the heat building there. "I believe we can prevail on Prowl for the occasional escape."

"I think as Prime you can almost definitely order him to," Starscream said, gasping. "At least for a joor or two. Are your repairs up for this?" he asked, casting another look in the hatchlings' direction. All four were enjoying the solvent bath, oblivious to the world around.

"Yes," Optimus promised. "Turn around, up against the shower door," he rumbled against Starscream's audial. "You can watch them while I fill you, and I'll keep watch when the pleasure is too much for you."

"You're as desperate as I am," Starscream said with a teasing purr, his hands going down to Optimus's spike cover and rubbing it in steady circles before he complied, valve bared and offered.

"I am," Optimus groaned as the visual, his spike extended and pressurized in his hand as he pressed against Starscream's back, covering him from behind, and sank into the willing, eagerly tight heat with a shudder of pleasure.

Starscream x-vented and swallowed against the shout he wanted to give, bracing himself against the door as the Prime's frame pressed against him. "Really--can't wait--to do this in a berth again."

Optimus shuddered at the suggestion and began to thrust. "How long?"

"I don't know, how fast can you get your Praxian to come collect them?" Starscream asked. 

"I mean--until they're out of the nest," Prime said, muffling his groan by pressing his mouth to Starscream's wing. "Until we can recharge in _our_ berth, every night." 

"Oh--uh--I'm really--not..." Starscream's claws grated on the door as his helm tossed back. "Armor--probably--it's nothing like--an eyrie but I guess--nnh--it could be modified... Prime, Pr- _Prime--!_ " 

Optimus's hand quickly wrapped around Starscream's mouth and Starscream bit down on one of the fingers as his scream was muffled, optics flickering with charge. Fyat bobbed forcefully upwards to see what had caused the change in tone, saw nothing to indicate her creators were in distress, and returned her attention to playing with Stratus and Pathfinder.

"Primus, you are lovely in overload," Optimus breathed when Starscream relaxed his grip on the finger.

"I know," Starscream eventually panted, once he got his vocalizer to reboot. He pushed back into the spike and cycled his valve invitingly. "You're good at causing it." He twisted around far enough to pull Optimus into a kiss, purring as the first thrust spread him wide all the way to the deepest point. The next thrust was harder, and then Optimus's hands were on Starscream's hips to hold him steady against the driving force of the larger frame as Optimus drove himself to his peak.

The big mech pressed his face against whatever bit of frame was closest as he attempted to muffle his roar.

Starscream kept his gaze on the sparklings and lifted his wing up, and then felt denta sinking into it as Optimus's overload shuddered through his frame. He gasped, and then squirmed as transfluid filled his valve, rushing against already-primed sensors. The charge was carefully extracted and funneled into the rest of his frame to let him stay focused, but _oh_ it felt good. 

Optimus's muffled shouts earned them another curious look from Fyat before she decided that whatever her brothers were doing was far more interesting than her creators acting strange. Starscream's wing shivered from the bite, but when Optimus slumped and the pressure released, he was still purring deeply. 

"That was nice," he commented, smirking and pleased with himself. 

"Very nice," Optimus murmured, his optics still powered down as he rested against Starscream's back. "They'll have a watcher for at least a joor every orn or so. I needed this."

"As long as they're all Ops approved," Starscream said, watching his hatchlings. "I'm not taking any chances with them."

"Agreed. I was thinking mostly Prowl, but if they'll behave for one of the others all the better," Optimus relaxed and powered on his optics to look at their splashing, cavorting hatchlings as he withdrew his spike. "They're adorable."

"They're time consuming," Starscream said with a groan when the tip slipped past his rim. He left the cover open so the rest of the transfluid could drain out to be washed away. "But I guess they're pretty cute too."

"At least when they're happy and not demanding attention," Optimus chuckled, his hands wandering along Starscream's frame until they ghosted over the wing he'd bitten. "When did I do this?"

"When you were overloading," Starscream said with a smirk, flicking the wing in Optimus's face. "I like it. Shows all your mecha who you belong to."

"I can't say I understand," Optimus fingered the indent lightly. "But if you don't want it repaired, I won't insist." He kissed the side of Starscream's helm. "How long before they won't need constant tending?"

"Um..." Starscream's wings canted the way they did when he wasn't sure about something, and it came with the familiar wash of irritation that Optimus had learned to associate with uncertainty. "I remember being left alone in the eyrie when I was a youngling..." He trailed off, then looked back. "You have to understand, in Vos there really isn't such a thing as being truly _alone._ Not ever. Someone is always within calling distance, even if they aren't from your eyrie. And usually someone is in your eyrie anyway. My best guess, when they're younglings, and locked somewhere safe."

"A definition the Residence and gardens will have before then," Optimus said, then paused. "How long before they are younglings?"

"Youngling upgrades are at 75 vorns," Starscream said, an answer he finally knew for certain. "Unless the spark isn't strong enough to support the changes, which is something measured at that time."

Optimus nodded thoughtfully. "Then there is more than enough time for them to have real Seeker medics do the upgrades, rather than having grounders fumble through it." A small pause. "Or do they not need medics and just grow into new forms on their own?"

"They'll need medics," Starscream said. "It's ... _possible_ to grow into them but it's much less risky to just have the procedure done."

Optimus nodded, his optics still on the playing hatchlings. "Do you feel clean enough to lounge in the pool with them?"

"Five more kliks," Starscream said, shifting past Optimus to point his face up towards the shower. He flicked his wings playfully. "Trying to get rid of me so soon?"

"When did I say I wasn't going there too?" Optimus teased back as he worked on cleaning himself under the multiple showerheads.

"I just figured you wanted the washrack all to yourself," Starscream said, getting a handful of solvent and splashing it at the big grounder's helm.

Optimus laughed. "Maybe for a few kliks. Then I want you on my lap in the pool."

"Hmm. In that case." Starscream fluffed out his armor and turned around slowly, making sure the cleanser ran under as much of the plating as possible before he slipped out and headed to the pool. The hatchlings all rose to the surface when they saw him coming, chirping excitedly as he joined them. Starscream trilled to them and then changed the pitch slightly, summoning Stratus. 

Stratus paddled over and Starscream lifted him up out of the solvent, looking him over. "Not too tired?" he asked. 

Stratus chirred a negative, squirming. 

"All right, all right, hold still," Starscream said, checking the temperature of his vents before setting him loose again.

"You are an excellent creator," Optimus said as he finished cleaning his frame, his armor completely fluffed out until the solvent finally ran clear off of him.

Starscream snorted. "Well if I'm going to do it I might as well do it right," he said, holding his hand out on the surface of the solvent for Fyat to climb onto before he lifted her into the air. She couched eagerly on the edge of his fingers, quivering, until Starscream stopped. She turned around and gave a demanding chirp. 

Starscream raised an optic ridge at her and lifted his hand a little more. She repeated the sound and Starscream just looked at her. "That's as high as you're going." 

She scowled as much as she could, then resigned herself and turned around, readying for the jump, and then leaped into the air and splashed into the solvent. Pathfinder was immediately climbing up Starscream's frame for the same, with Farsight just going for their carrier's helm. Fyat was on her way up again by the time both her brothers were in the solvent again.

All the while Optimus laughed in delighted humor to watch such enjoyment of such a simple thing. They were still happily using Starscream as a jumping board when Optimus joined them all in the pool and was immediately assaulted by a chirping Fyat and Stratus as they climbed onto him to jump from.

Stratus jumped from somewhere around the Prime's chest, but Fyat kept going higher. Starscream watched her, and then clicked a warning. She ignored him and kept going. Starscream gave her one more click, and then plucked her from Optimus's shoulder and plopped her back in the pool. She hissed at him. 

"You can jump from a safe height, you can swim, or you can sit on the edge and watch your brothers," Starscream said. "Your choice."

She hissed again, then grumbled something even Optimus knew was 'okay' in the sparkling chatter and paddled over to Optimus again, accepting his hand as a lift to the same height Starscream had allowed.

"She's going to be a handful when she's larger," Optimus chuckled as he happily allowed the hatchlings to use him as a diving platform.

Starscream groaned, then took advantage of a brief window in which all four sparklings were in the water to slip onto Optimus's lap and settle there. "She's going to be like _me_ ," he said. "When she can fly she'll be a little nightmare."

"I suspect she won't wait nearly that long," Optimus chuckled and wrapped one arm around Starscream's middle to affectionately brush plating with his fingers. "Though when you are the only thing that can catch her, I'm sure it will be much worse. At least the Residence is large and secure now. It will take her time to explore it all."

Starscream x-vented and nodded, covering Optimus's hand with his own. "When you contact Vos ... I think my creator trine will let me keep them, if I ask," he said. "I'm not sure about their flock Order. He'll want them raised in the eyrie."

"You're strong willed, Starscream. You'll be able to convince them, so long as you want to." He nuzzled the Seeker's neck. "It's okay not to want to by yourself."

"It isn't a matter of convincing," Starscream said, but he hummed and tilted his helm for the grounder, plating warming. "By Vosian law, they belong to him. He's allowed to take them away, he doesn't have to argue with me about it." He huffed. "I just won't take them to Vos until I know I'll be able to come back with them."

"I will support you in that as much as I can," Optimus promised. "If talks with the Winglord go as I hope, he will have good reason to speak to your flock Order on your behalf."

Starscream smirked. "I plan to speak with him myself," he said, waited for Pathfinder to jump off his shoulder, and then turned around in the Prime's lap and pulled him into a kiss. "I can petition him for legal custody."

"Which I'm sure you will win, if just so he doesn't have to listen to you go on," Optimus chuckled as the hatchlings continued to climb and dive. "I believe Stratus should rest soon."

"It's a talent," Starscream said with a smirk as he looked around for the littlest hatchling. He was starting to swim a little slower, chasing after his siblings as best he could but starting to fall behind. Starscream click-trilled to him as he reached out and scooped him up, bringing him to rest between him and Optimus. The hatchling protested. "Time for you to rest, little one," Starscream said. "Here, if you promise not to jump, you can sit really high, all right?" 

Stratus looked at him, then chirped morosely, looking back at his siblings.

"You can play more when you've rested," Starscream promised sincerely, a harmonic that really didn't sound natural for him. But the hatchling seemed to trust it, which was all that mattered. He reached out for Optimus and Starscream set him on the grounder's shoulder. He chirred and then curled up against Optimus's neck and fell almost instantly into recharge. 

Starscream sighed. "Good call."

"He's growing stronger, even if not as quickly as his siblings," Optimus said with a soft rumble as he tuned his engine to a frequency that helped the hatchlings recharge soundly.

"Poor thing, though," Starscream murmured, and settled his helm on Optimus's chest. Farsight stopped halfway through his climb to chirp up at his carrier, concerned, and Starscream trilled back. Once the hatchling had returned to his playing, Starscream nipped at his mate's armor. "You know what we could be doing right now if we had a sitter..."

"Yes," Optimus rumbled. "Soon. Soon I'll make sure we have a little time to ourselves on our berth."

"Good," Starscream said with a purr that didn't quite reach his engines as three chirping hatchlings climbed up to insist upon their creators that they play with them again.

* * *

"He's meeting us out here?" Starscream asked as they set the hatchlings down on the rim of the newly-repaired fountain. "Will he be able to watch all of them out here?" 

"Prowl will be fine," Optimus said. "If he can keep track of them inside, he can keep track of them out here." He slipped his hand onto Starscream's back and leaned down a little, lowering his voice. "Besides, I'd like to know for sure that no one is going to _hear_ you." 

"Hmm." Starscream smirked and tilted his head back for a kiss, then turned around to rub against his mate's frame. "It's _your_ fault if I'm loud."

"You don't do anything quietly," Optimus chuckled as the Praxian came into view.

"Prowl!" an excited chirp came from near their pedes.

Starscream's wings jerked up in time with Optimus's delighted gasp as they both looked down to see Fyat standing there, bouncing with excitement as she pointed at the approaching grounder, then looked back up to her creators. "Prowl!" 

"Did she just--" Starscream stammered. 

"She spoke!" Optimus said, beside himself with excitement. Starscream turned an unimpressed look on him. 

"She said a _grounder's_ designation," the Seeker said. "Great, wonderful, my spawn will make me _so_ proud." But despite the words and the tone, his field was every bit as excited as the Prime's.

"Hello, Fyat," Prowl actually _smiled_ at her as she ran towards him to be smoothly scooped up he inclined his helm to the other adults. "Optimus Prime, Starscream." Another smile was graced upon the three other chirping hatchlings. "Hello Pathfinder, Farsight, Stratus."

"Prowl!" Fyat repeated proudly, and then burst into excited chatter, a mix of clicks, whistles, chirps, and the designation. 

"Well that's fantastic," Starscream said dryly. He made no move to leave.

"She is quite brilliant," Prowl said an honest compliment as he let her play with wiggling fingers. "Her instructors will soon be hard-pressed to keep up with her."

"Of course they will be," Starscream said. "You're _sure_ you can handle all four of them out here?"

"Of course. I have watched them in the Residence Garden before," Prowl said easily as he put Fyat down. "They are reasonably well behaved."

"Hmph. Fine." Starscream flicked his wings in acceptance, but still didn't move, even when Optimus began to step away. 

When his mate didn't follow, Optimus looked back, and saw Starscream looking at his youngest creation with an unbelievably proud and almost sappy expression. He sighed internally and came back. "Would you like to stay out here?" he murmured, putting his arms on Starscream's shoulders. "I am happy to. After all, it is not every orn one gets to hear one's creation saying a grounder's designation over and over..." 

That seemed to jar Starscream out of whatever dreamy place he'd drifted off to and he quickly straightened. "Well I'd hate to make you stay," he said, and turned. 

"Oh, please don't deprive yourself on my account," Optimus said, optics glowing with humor. "Please, I would be _more_ than happy--"

"Optimus Prime if you are not uncovered and in that berth in two kliks I am going to twist your antenna until it snaps off," Starscream snarled.

Prowl jerked to full attention, ready to intervene, until Optimus laughed in good humor and quickly turned to head inside. The Praxian stared after, bewildered, before the demanding chirping of the hatchlings drew his attention back. 

Starscream followed Optimus in, and as soon as they were out of sight he jumped onto the Prime's back, holding onto his shoulder with one hand and wrapping the other around an antenna. He stroked up, and then followed his fingers with his glossa, licking up the full length. 

Optimus moaned and shuddered at the distraction to his ability to walk. He was already warming quickly in anticipation, but focused on his mission: reach the berth and put his mate on his back.

It was a mission the Seeker holding onto him was making much harder than it needed to be, as the soft warmth sent waves across his sensor net. When Starscream's denta scraped lightly over the surface, bursts of whitewash data followed behind. Optimus shivered and Starscream purred. 

"One klik left," the Seeker sing-songed.

"Does time reset if I take you against the wall?" Optimus rumbled as he stumbled forward.

"Oh, that is cheating, and cheating cuts your time in half," Starscream said, sounding pleased with himself. He moved from the antenna to Optimus's neck, something which caused thankfully less interference with his ability to move. 

"I'll show you cheating," Optimus rumbled as he broke into a run, shifting to cause inertia to press Starscream against his back, right up to the last twist, inside the berthroom, intended to dislodge the Seeker and fling him to the berth.

Starscream yelped and made a grab for Optimus's shoulders, scraping the finish as he tried to cling to him, and then found himself back down on the berth. "Well that--" his optics brightened considerably at the sight of his much larger lover using the momentum he still had to leap on top of him. Though Optimus didn't make any contact with the initial landing, the impression of _mass_ hit Starscream as hard as the full landing might have.

"Mine," Optimus growled as he captured Starscream's mouth with a heated kiss, his spike already pressurizing between them.

Starscream x-vented into the kiss, arching his frame up as he grabbed hold of Optimus's shoulders to pull closer. The force of the kiss left his mouth feeling bruised and he couldn't resist a very small bite, just as his spike extended against the grounder's. His valve cover slid away in the same moment and Starscream pulled his legs up and back. Optimus took the invitation and grabbed Starscream's hip in one hand and slammed all the way inside in a single motion.

Starscream shouted, helm slamming back as he grabbed onto Optimus, claws latching onto whatever plating he could find. The hard spike hit the back of his wall so hard that it nearly overloaded his entire sensory net in that single hit, fuzzing everything else out with the strength of the signal. "Optimus, _Optimus!_ " His voice screeched and it came out cut with static, and he could do nothing to control it when the hard, deep thrusting began and never seemed to end.

Somewhere in the bleary bliss of multiple overloads and a lax frame still being stimulated by the powerful frame over him, Starscream grasped that Optimus intended to empty his entire transfluid reservoir into him.

"You--miss me--carrying, huh?" he gasped, rocking his hips into the movement.

"I don't need that excuse to indulge my lover," Optimus rumbled into a groaning shudder of an overload.

"Nn--" Starscream grabbed at him as another torrent of charge rushed through them both. When Optimus's spike struck forward halfway through the full release, Starscream seized and screamed. His thighs were spread wide by Optimus's hips, legs hooked around and helping as much as possible to pull him in, every sensor in his frame primed. Even the friction of the fabric against his wings made him see sparks. Another hit into his valve and Starscream bit down on his own lip hard enough to dent and draw energon.

Optimus gave a few more thrusts, ragged and unsteady, before his frame stilled and he slumped over Starscream. "I could get very used to this."

"So could I," Starscream groaned. He continued to rock lightly, grinding against Optimus's spike. "What _possessed_ you?" he asked with a purr. "And will it make another appearance?"

"Desire to indulge you, and I expect it will, since you enjoyed it," Optimus groaned as he responded by thrusting again.

" _\--Ha._ " Starscream gave a harsh x-vent and shuddered. A few more thrusts and he bit down on Optimus's shoulder, quivering in a final overload before he slumped back, panting heavily. Through bleary, unfocused optics he watched his grounder-mate pull out with a shudder of his own and flop down next to him. "That was amazing."

"It was," Optimus agreed as he lazily reached over to caress Starscream with a barely steady hand. "Perhaps next time you'll managed to put me on my back."

"I think I hear a challenge," Starscream mumbled in an attempt to sound seductive, or at least threatening.

"You did," Optimus gave him a wink and shifted to claim a kiss. "Now, energon, shower and ... why don't you go flying for a while?"

Starscream scrambled upright and shot towards the washracks. "You mean that?" he demanded, only pausing to turn around once he was in the doorway. "I'm allowed?"

"Yes, I mean it. Yes, you are allowed," Optimus said firmly as he followed Starscream into the shower. 

"Good, if your demon twins get all riled up I'm pointing them in _your_ direction," Starscream said as he jumped under the solvent. All of his armor was loose and he immediately began focusing on getting the transfluid and lubricant off his legs. "Actually you should probably make sure they know first so they don't just shoot me."

"I have. They aren't happy, Whiplash in particular, but they've accepted it," Optimus insisted as he began to clean himself off. "I want you in practice when the hatchlings are ready to go up with you."

Starscream pushed him back and kissed him with no warning. " _That,_ " he said, "Will not be a problem. I want you to see what flying looks like."

"I'm looking forward to it," Optimus rumbled eagerly.

"I should hope so," Starscream said with a grin as he returned to washing. He finished in record time and just about dragged Optimus with him to grab a cube of energon and then run back outside. 

"That was not as long as I had expected," Prowl said, looking at his Prime, who came up a little behind. Both of them were still slightly damp from the shower.

"It seems that mentioning flying got him a little excitable," Optimus chuckled.

"I thought the point was to get him excitable while still on the ground," Prowl deadpanned as the hatchlings greeted Starscream and Optimus. "Do you require me to continue watching them, sir?"

"No, though if you wish to stay and watch the show, you are welcome to," Optimus smiled at him as the hatchlings chirped around his and Starscream's pedes.

Starscream knelt down and looked at all four hatchlings. "I'm going to show you what _flying_ is," he told them. "You'll do this some orn. This is what we live for. This is _life._ " They stared back up at him, transfixed by the intensity in his field and voice. Starscream looked up at Optimus, grinned, then got a running start that took him far enough away from the hatchlings that the thruster fire wouldn't harm them, jumped into the air and transformed. 

He spiraled as he rocketed straight up, and Stratus reached for him, jumping up and down. Fyat ran to Optimus and started to climb up his frame, hissing and swatting at him with her claws when he tried to help her. Optimus let her be and picked the other three up to hold and watch. 

By the time Fyat reached his shoulder, Starscream was barely visible. They saw the glint of metal in the sun, the turn, and then the horizontal cut through the air.

"Most impressive," Prowl admitted. "He flies well."

"Yes he does," Optimus agreed, his optics locked on his lover while his other senses kept tabs on the hatchlings chirping and jumping up and down, pointing at their creator as he looped and dived, banked and spun.

In the air, Starscream could barely even think. To be _airborne_ again, really airborne, with nothing to think or worry about except the next air current, was deliriously amazing. It felt like the last shadows of that underground cell were being burnt away by the sun, and even though he knew it was only temporary until they found him again, the relief was incredible. Seekers weren't meant to have solid ground beneath them for their entire lives, and they were _never_ mean to have solid ground above. His frame trembled with joy, the wind buffeting against his wings set him on fire.

He had no idea how long he was up there and absolutely no care. No one commed him. No one flew by. No shots were fired. Nothing interrupted his recapturing of what he _was_.

When he finally landed neatly on his pedes in the garden, he found his frame trembling with exhaustion and low energy warnings that he couldn't be bothered with in the sky. He was still orienting himself in the dusk as the garden shifted from natural to artificial light when a cube of jet grade energon was pressed towards him. He grabbed it, consuming it automatically, then dropped the empty cube and sat down, panting heavily to flush out the heat. After another moment he lay back, looking up at the stars he had just been dancing with. A hatchling grabbed hold of his hand and he pet, not focused enough to tell which one it was, but he heard delighted trills from all of them. "Never again," he swore, once he could talk.

There was a pause, then Prime's deep rumble of confusion. "Never fly again?"

Starscream's optics snapped into focus and he gave Optimus a startled look that hardened quickly. "Never again will I let _grounders_ dictate when I can use my wings."

Relief was not the reaction he'd been expecting, but it was a nice one.

"Good. No one should have that kind of control, except possibly these little ones," Optimus smiled fondly down at the hatchlings that were crawling over their carrier, nuzzling and sniffing the sense of high altitude on him.

"Only them," Starscream agreed, and slipped back into the unfocused daze of joy that was _flight_ , falling offline only kliks later.


	16. Risks for Family

Starscream flew almost every orn, usually in the night sky after Optimus finished his duties for the day, sometimes earlier if it was an orn when Prowl came by to watch the hatchlings. Between flying, the Prime's duties, and Prowl's duties, Starscream didn't see nearly as much of his mate as he would have liked, but it worked. And soon the secrecy could end. 

At least, so he'd been told. 

He was content to wait, to avoid a war. Growing up on Vos, the hatred and mistrust of grounders that permeated normal life made it easy to understand. Caution was needed, and while it wasn't exactly his style, at least Starscream had plenty of other things to think about. 

He could see his mate reclining on the ground near the fountain, resting on his elbows and serving as a jungle gym for the hatchlings. Stratus was playing in the water with Fyat, and Optimus was smiling up at him. It was one of the looks that made Starscream glad of the distance between them because his spark always felt giddily stupid when it happened and he was sure it would read out into his field.

Between that look and the next, something changed. Optimus was getting up rather hurriedly, only moving slowly enough not to damage Farsight and Pathfinder as they got off him. When his direction became clear--towards the fountain--Starscream twisted and made for the ground. Optimus was reaching in, scooping something out. As he got closer to them, Starscream could hear Fyat's frantic chirps, and nothing from Stratus. Farsight and Pathfinder had scurried out of the way and were watching with huge optics. 

Starscream transformed and landed as close as he dared and ran over, grabbing Optimus's arm and looking down at the limp hatchling there. He shrieked in alarm, at first thinking the worst-- but then Stratus's optics flickered and he gave a long, low keen. 

He was alive, but something was wrong. 

"Fyat started calling for me," Optimus said, almost stammering the words. "He was moving so slow--Primus he's burning up." 

Starscream touched Stratus's back and immediately felt the heat radiating from the tiny frame, just moments before he heard two sirens approaching fast. Jazz was there even faster, but he hung back once he assessed that the Prime's panicked comm about Stratus wasn't another attack.

Ratchet and Prowl transformed almost together. The medic rushed for the distressed creators and the oldest, weakest creation while Prowl made short work of rounding up the other three so they were out of the way.

"Put him inside," Ratchet ordered as he transformed again. "I need to get him in a coolant bath _now_."

" _Give,_ " Starscream snarled, and Optimus settled Stratus into the Seeker's hands. Starscream got into the medic's vehicle mode, holding Stratus close to his chest. 

"Get him near one of the vents," Ratchet ordered as he pumped cold air into the compartment. It was uncomfortable for him, unpleasant for Starscream, but if the hatchling was away from his carrier's heat it might just save him. "Keep his frame as cool as you can. If he gets much hotter than that he's going to melt."

"I _know!_ " Starscream snarled even as he did as instructed.

"Growling at me won't help anything, especially your nerves," Ratchet said firmly. "Staying calm will. He's still conscious, he can feel you, and stress will only make things worse. Please. Stay. Calm."

Starscream grumbled but forced himself to calm his field and focus on encouraging Stratus with soft coos while Ratchet raced to the medbay. Starscream could feel the heavy comm traffic from and to the medic, but he didn't expend the effort to try to tap into it.

Ratchet came to a screeching halt. "Out."

Starscream scrambled out with Stratus held as far away from his frame as he could manage. Once they were clear, the medic transformed and took the hatchling from him right as an assistant wheeled over a clear, double-walled bath, sized for a symbiot. The inner liquid was light blue, the outer looked like it was steaming. Ratchet lowered Stratus into the center pool.

The poor hatchling gave a startled squawk and thrashed a bit as Ratchet held him under, but within a quarter klik he'd begun to make a relieved chirring as the coolant sucked the excess heat from him.

Starscream slumped, and only when arms caught him from behind did he become aware of the Prime's presence, holding him up. He canted his wings back and found Prowl with the other hatchlings standing near the entryway, all four of them silent. 

"What's wrong with him?" Starscream managed.

Ratchet was already scanning. "His ventilation systems are failing," he said, shaking his head in bewilderment. "I see no reason for it, there's nothing that should have caused them to wear out so..." He trailed off and fell silent for a moment, looking over everything that his scanner was telling him. "They're _small._ Everything about him is small, of course, but they don't look large enough to support a frame of his size." 

"Why didn't you catch it sooner?" Starscream snarled, jerking against Prime's steady grip. "You see them often enough!" 

"Well I've never seen hatchlings before, have I?" Ratchet said. "I don't know what they're supposed to look like. He's going to need a specialist."

"From Helex," Prime said, stating as much as asking. 

Ratchet nodded. "That's where the only ones I know how to reach are. I've already sent the request." 

"How long can you keep him stable?" Optimus asked, trying to calm Starscream.

"If nothing else is wrong, vorns, if I have to, but he'll have to stay attached to equipment or inside a coolant bath," Ratchet warned. "A medic called Pullus should be here within an orn or two, I've communicated with him in the past." 

"He will be reimbursed for the trip and his time," Prime said, rubbing Starscream's wings. "Generously." 

One of Ratchet's assistants came up and started to wheel the bath with the hatchling with it away, and a moment later came face to face with a snarling Seeker, wings raised and claws unsheathed. "Where are you taking him?" Starscream demanded. 

Ratchet grabbed a wing and pulled. "If you harass my staff you will not be welcome," he growled, and Starscream quickly looked to Optimus for a contradiction of the statement, only to find agreement. "We need to connect him to something more permanent," Ratchet continued. "That bath is temporary and will heat up as he does."

"Once he's settled and stabilized outside the bath, I'm sure you will be welcome to visit," Optimus said, though there was just enough of a question harmonic in there for Ratchet to counter him.

"So long as your Seeker here behaves," Ratchet agreed by way of warning. "It's in his best interest to have his creators and siblings around."

Starscream huffed, and then at the mention of siblings looked around for the other hatchlings and found them crowded around and on Prowl. Fyat, to no surprise, was on his shoulder while her larger brothers clung upright to his legs. He grabbed Ratchet's arm and pointed at them. "Them, I want all of them looked at by the Shuttle when he's here, too."

"They will be," Ratchet said easily. "Though I can tell you that their systems are all proportional to their size."

"One joor ago you couldn't tell me that about Stratus!"

"A joor ago I wasn't _looking_ for it," Ratchet held his exasperation in check. "What I know to look for, I can check."

"You haven't even looked at them!" Starscream protested. 

"They were scanned the moment they came through that door," Ratchet said, smoothing the harmonics of his voice together. "I'm looking at the results right now. Their ventilation systems are large enough to sustain their mass." 

Starscream scowled, then hissed at nothing in particular and cast his gaze about, looking for something, _anything_ , that he could blame this on and maul. Otherwise he would just end up being terrified for his hatchling's life. 

Then quiet chirping drew his attention and he looked back to his hatchlings, who were staring at him, and Farsight lifted one arm up in a request to be held. 

"Oh, darlings," Starscream sighed, going to them immediately and scooping them up. He pressed a kiss to Farsight's helm and nuzzled the other two. 

"Stratus?" Fyat asked. 

"The _nice_ medic is going to help him," Starscream said, rubbing her back. "You did a very good job, calling for Optimus when something was wrong. That was the exact right thing to do, I'm very proud of you."

She trilled in delight at the praise, her tiny wing nubs fluttering rapidly.

"Ratchet said we can go in and be with him in a couple breems," Optimus said quietly as he picked up Pathfinder.

Starscream nodded as he looked around. "Right, right, of course. Um--can--can you go get some games for them?" he asked, looking up at his mate. "Maybe something Stratus can play with, he's going to be bored. Those crystals they like to throw in the fountain, maybe?"

"I'll find something," Optimus promised with a kiss. "Stay here with the little ones and don't worry about anything. I'll take care of it." 

Starscream huffed a laugh. "Or you'll order someone else to." 

"Or I'll order someone else to," Optimus agreed with a good-humored smile. "All I want you to think about is watching over our creations, and what you'd like to do when Stratus is healthy again, all right?" 

"But--" 

"No buts. Promise me," Optimus said, silencing Starscream with a single finger before drawing it away. 

Starscream glared at him. "Bossy oaf. Fine." 

"Good," Optimus said, kissed him one more time, handed Pathfinder over, and went to collect the toys.

* * *

Starscream was leaning against the wall next to the tank that Stratus had been placed in, his fingers resting lightly on the outside of the vacuum-insulated material that surrounded the coolant. There was enough room for Stratus to swim about a little and when he needed to fuel Starscream was able to open the lid enough to feed him, and the temperature inside was constantly monitored and refreshed with a steady supply of cooled liquid. 

It had been nearly two orns since they'd rushed here, and Starscream's spark ached for his hatchling. His healthy ones weren't fairing much better, since he was here so much fussing over this one. Optimus couldn't watch them nearly as much as either of them would like, and while Prowl was always prompt and the hatchlings liked him, Starscream had seen the shift in his manner as he walked away. While he wasn't sure what it was, he was sure that it meant his doting on the hatchlings was not all that voluntary. It wasn't something that an already stressed and worried creator wanted to see, but at least the hatchlings didn't seem to notice, which was the important part for now. 

All four of them were bored and anxious, picking up on his stress no matter how much he tried to hide it. He was far from his home city and the specialists there, and he just had to hope that a Shuttle would have a better idea of what he was doing than the incompetent grounders. 

Stratus drifted around inside the tank, picking at the crystals on the bottom, and came over to stare pitifully at Starscream through the walls again. Starscream stared back, then stood, meaning to go find the medic and see how loud he could yell before he was threatened with expulsion. 

"Ah, you're up!" Ratchet said, finding him instead. He sounded relieved and there was a Shuttle behind him. "Starscream, this is Pullus, from Helex." 

"Hello," Pullus said warmly, canting his wings in a polite greeting. "Are you the hatchling's carrier?"

"Yes," Starscream stared up, and up, remembering just how _big_ Shuttles were at three times the height and many times the mass of the Prime.

"Very good," Pullus said, and his gaze shifted to the tank. "This must be the little one here," he said. "I'm going to take him out, but I will have an infrared sensors on him at all times," he told Starscream as he slowly moved towards Stratus. "He will never be in danger." He knelt, took the lid off and trilled down to the hatchling that came curiously up to the surface. Stratus's optics immediately spiraled hugely. "Hello little one," the shuttle cooed, dipping a fingertip into the coolant next to him. "Can you grab hold for me?" 

Stratus looked to Starscream, who lifted his wings reassuringly to his creation, and then latched onto the Shuttle's finger. "I'm told his ventilation systems don't seem to be working quite right?" Pullus asked as carefully and gently coaxed the hatchling into his palm.

Starscream recognized the cant and tone of a medic trying to keep a relative at ease and gave the Shuttle a bit more credit. He knew how to deal with jacked up protocols at least. Even so, it was difficult to watch him lift Stratus, so incredibly tiny in his hand, up far higher than Starscream's helm.

Pullus cooed and trilled nonsense as he drew a scanner out that was bigger than the entire hatchling and started to take his readings. "How was your carry?" he asked after a little while.

Starscream shot a look at Ratchet, a silent 'does he know?'.

Ratchet shook his head, _no._

"Difficult," Starscream said uneasily. "No trine and not much support for much of it. The other three seem healthy. He's much smaller than the others."

Pullus hummed, then smiled warmly at Stratus as he lowered him down. "All right, little one, back you go." 

Stratus chirred unhappily, reluctant to go back into the tank. 

"It will help you grow strong," Pullus said. "And then you'll get to fly very high just like your carrier. Have you ever seen him fly?" 

Stratus nodded, sighed, and slipped back into the coolant. 

"Very good," Pullus praised as he settled the lid back on, then rose and silently beckoned for Ratchet and Starscream to follow him away from the tank. It was more difficult for Starscream, and he only pulled himself away after trilling encouragement to Stratus several times.

"What does he need?" Ratchet asked evenly and calmly, one professional to another.

Pullus turned to face them both, and everything about his field and stance shifted to a mech who needed to be heard, and taken very seriously. "You have a very sick little hatchling in there," he said. "Frankly I'm amazed that this is the first complication you've seen. I don't expect you to have realized it, and please believe that I am not trying to scold you or blame you for this, but he needs a great deal of help. Nothing is developing at the same rate, and untreated, I doubt he'll live to see his armor." 

"He has to go to Vos," Starscream said, the words as simple as they were shaking to those who knew what they meant.

"Is this beyond your skills?" Ratchet hoped to hear something that would keep Starscream from flying away.

"Didn't you hear? He needs a _specialist_ or he'll deactivate in the next couple decaorns!" Starscream snarled at Ratchet.

"If he was a Shuttle I would feel confident treating him," Pullus said, gently redirecting Starscream's attention back towards him. "Even as severe as he is. And I do feel confident addressing some of the issues, but others of them I would not recommend myself for." He glanced between them, then held a cautioning hand up to Starscream. "I also advise against moving him, especially for a trip as long as Vos will be. Admittedly I don't understand the complexities of your relationship with the Seekers, but if there is a way to get a Seeker medic--a hatchling specialist--I would recommend that above all other courses."

"I'll find a way," Starscream said with the same kind of grim determination that had gotten him through vorns of imprisonment and so much worse.

"Before you take off, at least give me a chance to _ask_ if one will come," Ratchet insisted, then looked at Pullus. "Though I expect one would be more willing to come if you would sign the request as a valid one."

"Of course," Pullus said, inclining his helm. "And I don't plan on going anywhere until I am certain of his health. I would like to check over the other three, and then start some basic preliminary work on him." He looked to Starscream for permission. 

"Yes, thank you," the Seeker said with honest relief and pinged Prowl with orders to bring the other three to the medbay. "They'll be here in a few kliks."

"I'll start writing that request," Ratchet said before heading to his office.

"What ... what are his chances, if he gets the care he needs?" Starscream asked when Ratchet was gone. His wings were quivering, blaming himself as much as the grounders, if not more. _He_ was the Seeker. _He_ should have known.

"Decent," Pullus said, sympathy for the carrier in his wings. "I don't want to give you false hope, but I must make it clear that I am not a qualified expert in this area." He carefully settled down on the ground, leaning forward so he could be closer to the Seeker's height. "The next decaorns will likely not be easy." 

"Not many of mine have been. We'll manage," Starscream said with a quiver of wings that spoke of not being ready to go into it much more. "Prime's ... done what he can. I was already heavy when they found me, though."

Why was he blabbering about this? The Shuttle didn't need to know!

Pullus regarded him for a few moments. "None of this is your fault," he said. "There was no way for you to know anything was wrong, it would take an experienced medic looking for the right things, which, unfortunately, grounders are not. You've taken excellent care of him. I cannot stress that enough. Was..." He glanced around, then lowered his voice and shifted to thickly accented 'cant. "Did the grounders mistreat you? Do you need asylum in Helex, when this is over? Vos is an easy journey from there."

Starscream went still. The offer made him really _think_ about what he wanted, for himself and his creations, and the best way to go about it. "Yes, they did, but the ones who did are all gone. They can't hurt anyone again. If it would save his spark, I would. I don't really want to leave, though. Optimus treats me better than any Seekers ever did."

"All right," Pullus hummed as Prowl appeared with the other three hatchlings. Their happy trills at seeing Starscream cut off when the Shuttle turned to look at them. 

Farsight whistled, long and low, as Pullus got up to his knees and towered overhead. 

"Hello," the Shuttle rumbled. 

" _Big,_ " Fyat said, staring. 

"Yes, Shuttles are very large," Prowl agreed with her. While his trill didn't sound much like an airframe's, there was a hint in it that he knew at least some of either Seeker or Shuttle, or perhaps Rotor. "How is he doing?" the question was directed at Starscream, and immediately regretted.

"Either a Vosian hatchling specialist gets here in the next decaorn, or he'll extinguish," Starscream bit out far more calmly than he would to most. Even riled he had an instinctive grasp of how best to play those around him, and Prowl responded best to facts, timelines and relative calm.

"A decaorn?" Prowl repeated, as Fyat shrieked and tried to scramble out of the Praxian's hands. Farsight and Pathfinder looked startled by their sibling's sudden distress, and looked to Starscream for reassurance. 

"A decaorn is the worst case scenario, but it is not impossible," Pullus explained, watching the small femme with interest. "I believe she fully understood you," he told Starscream with some amazement. 

"She's understood all 'cant, Vosian and Imperial for at least a three decaorns, likely longer," Starscream said with absolute pride. "She's the only one speaking anything but hatchling 'cant."

"Perhaps you can examine her brothers while she examines her sick one," Prowl suggested when his efforts to contain her resulted in being bitten and clawed before he got a hand around her back so she couldn't reach him. Which set off the screeching her carrier was infamous for.

"Spirited," Pullus chuckled, as he reached out for the other two and Starscream nodded for Prowl to let her go. The noise stopped as she dashed off to the tank, only pausing to grab one of the step stools the minibots used to drag over. Neither Prowl nor Starscream moved to help her, aware that such an offense would only result in more screeching, and let her get the heavy object into place on her own.

"That and far more," Prowl chuckled lightly. "I believe she takes after her carrier more than the others. She's definitely the most aggressive, possessive, demanding and intelligent of them."

"My finest attributes," Starscream said loftily, but anyone could tell that it was just a thin cover over how sick and fearful he felt.

Pullus smiled at him and kept scanning Farsight, then moved onto Pathfinder. When he finished, he looked up brightly. "These two are perfectly healthy, and in wonderful shape," he said. "Once your little one over there can be pulled away, I expect her results will be much the same." 

Starscream tried calling Fyat over with a commanding click-chirp, and was ignored. The second call was met with a rude hiss before Fyat pressed back against the clear glass that separated her from her brother. 

"It's no problem," Pullus said quickly, and moved to her instead. A few kliks later, he reported the same results as her brothers. 

Starscream x-vented with relief. "Now what?" he asked the Shuttle. 

"Now I wait to hear from Ratchet, and then we make a plan," Pullus said.

* * *

If there was ever a "hard" part to being Prime, Optimus decided as he sat in silence with Whiplash and Prowl as they waited for Ratchet, this was it. He knew he was going to be weighing the fate of few against the fate of many, in a delicate balance of politics and medicine. All he could hope for was that between them, they could find an answer that didn't condemn a sparkling to a painful deactivation and would likely condemn the four survivors to a lifelong confinement.

As he waited and worried, he tried to tell himself that the decision was just as hard as it would be if he didn't know the mecha whose lives and happiness were at risk, but the truth was ... he thought it was harder. 

His spark contracted painfully at the thought that his decision might be biased in any way, and by the time Ratchet got there, he was nothing but stress and worry. 

"You look awful," the medic told him.

"It won't be any better soon," Optimus said grimly as he waved Ratchet to his seat. "Let's get this over with."

Ratchet nodded. "Pullus has started some basic work on Stratus, but as I'm learning, there is a lot going on with him that needs to be addressed. Pullus is willing to stay here to see out the treatment, and attempt the more radical options himself, but he doesn't feel confident in his abilities to see it all the way through. He thinks Stratus needs a Vosian specialist, and he's signed off on the request I've drafted that could be sent to Vos." 

"If they find out we've been hiding a rescued adult and four hatchlings here, there will be very little to keep them from attacking us," Whiplash said. "I'm not comfortable with this. We're not ready."

"When _would_ we be ready?" Optimus demanded quietly. "For as long as this has been going on, with the threat of all-out war one discovery away for _generations_ , why are we not ready?"

"Because it takes _time,_ " Whiplash said. "Before you, we were supposed to keep a thriving organization hidden, not just from law enforcement, but from Vos. We've made _very sure_ that that threat was low, and now we're backtracking over our own work. The Winglord isn't stupid, egg theft is one of the reasons the Seekers and Shuttles fled. And yes, we've come a long ways, but until he feels certain that tearing the planet apart and killing every grounder he sees--which wouldn't bother him in the slightest, by the way--won't save any Seekers' lives, I don't want him to know." 

"By your estimate, how far away are you from that point?" Prowl asked quietly. 

"Three vorns, maybe five," Whiplash said. "We're close. But I don't think he'd appreciate our _wait and watch_ approach."

"Neither will the one being who can give him undeniable proof that we have been hiding this," Optimus said gravely. "Starscream, even without his creations, is all the proof the Winglord would need of what has been going on. If we allow one of them to deactivate out of fear of reprisal, just what do you propose we do with him and the other three?"

"If I was being asked what I believe is in the best interests of Cybertron, I would recommend keeping them hidden," Whiplash said. "Forever. Make their lives as comfortable as possible, but keep them away from Vos."

"Your _best_ advice is to lock up four innocent mecha and allow a sparkling to deactivate?" Prime asked, trying to keep his growl down. 

"My professional opinion is that it would have the highest chances of keeping the majority of Cybertronians safe," Whiplash said. "I'm not advocating it, and I will do what you command. You asked for my recommendation, and I gave it." 

"What would you recommend to give Starscream and all _four_ of his hatchlings the best life possible?" Optimus asked. 

Whiplash huffed. "Obviously if you want all four hatchlings to survive, we should contact Vos within a few orns." 

"Can we reach out to _just_ a medic?" Ratchet asked, looking around. "Is that possible?" 

"'Please come to Cybertron, urgent, we have a sick hatchling.'" Whiplash let the words hang in the air for a few moments. "How long do you think it takes before that reaches the Winglord, who asks after the hatchling's health and history?"

"So what would you do?" Optimus asked. 

"I believe the best option to save Stratus and avoid war is to go to the Winglord outright," Whiplash said. "I think the chances of war are higher with that option than letting the hatchling die, but lower than trying to sneak a medic here." 

Optimus nodded slowly, trying his best to divorce himself from the mecha involved and eventually was reminded of something he believed in even as an archivist. Every spark was special. Every spark deserved a chance. Every spark deserved to be _heard_.

That last part was the one that was killing him now. He couldn't bring himself to silence four mecha for life for being victims. Yes, the hatchling was important, but he would let it fade if it meant the other four would be free. Only for the other four to be free, the fifth had to survive.

He turned his helm to Prowl, who had remained largely still and silent. "What do you say? How would you go about saving the hatchling without invoking a war?"

"Based on my calculations, if we let Pullus continue treatment without contacting Vos, there is already a non-insignificant chance of word reaching the Winglord," Prowl said. "With that taken into consideration--" 

"He's a _medic,_ " Ratchet growled. "He operates under a medic's code, he wouldn't release confidential information." 

"Even so," Prowl said calmly. "With that taken into consideration, letting Stratus die and hiding the other four still has the lowest chance of civilian death. If we contact the Winglord and show him our efforts, come clean about our history and the present situation, I calculate those odds of war at 72.754%. Going around him for a medic increases the odds to 98.842%." 

"What can we do to increase our chances of landing in that 27.246% range?" Optimus asked heavily. 

"It all depends on how he responds to us," Prowl said. "I recommend separating him from his kin, if possible. Being open and honest, stressing the work that has been done." 

"Stress just now new you are, the rules you changed and orders you gave as soon as you became aware of what was going on," Whiplash added. "It might not help, it could make it worse, but hopefully he'll grasp that while _Optimus_ is Prime just what the penalties are for those that harm Seekers and their eggs."

"I would also recommend allowing Starscream as much contact as either will tolerate," Prowl added. "He is a terrible diplomat, but he is an exceptional natural manipulator with a vested interest in a war not happening and as a Seeker his words are worth far, far more than anything you can say or do. If Starscream is genuinely on our side, which is currently around 66.835%, he is our best weapon against a war."

Optimus nodded slowly, taking all that in. "Then I will go to Vos myself, as soon as transport can be arranged."

"No!" Whiplash snapped, the glyph echoed, quieter but much more forcefully by Prowl and even more aggressively by Ratchet.

" _Prime_ ," Prowl stressed the title. "That is an unacceptable risk. First request him to come here. If that is not accepted, and there is a 93.228% probability it will not be, request to meet in a more neutral location. An asteroid, ship or uninhabited sector of Cybertron. Even Helex if they will host it."

Optimus muted his growl of frustration, but nodded. "The request for the medic will be sent at the same time, and its urgency not understated." 

"Agreed," Prowl inclined his helm. "Has anyone learned why Starscream is so reluctant to have his designation known?"

"If you mean not telling Pullus the whole truth, I think that was just not wanting to describe the details of what he went through to a complete stranger," Ratchet said. "Recounting that kind of trauma is a raw and intimate experience."

"And he's worried about losing the hatchlings," Optimus said. "I've been able to gather that by Vosian law they don't belong to him, legally. He has to petition the Winglord to override the default legal standing of his flock Order."

Ratchet scowled. "That's seriously messed up. No wonder he doesn't like the idea of taking them to Vos."

"Is there anything else that needs to be brought to my attention now?" Optimus looked around the three of them.

"Just your signature," Ratchet handed over the request for the specialist. "Pullus signed it as the first requested specialist, a referral. I signed it as the hatchling's doctor of record. Since this is a political hotplate, there are provisions in there where you take personal responsibility for safety of the Seekers who we're asking to come and any in their party under diplomatic status."

Optimus nodded and signed over the muted objection of Whiplash.

"I'd like to see everything before you send it over to them," Whiplash said. "Consider me your shadow for the next couple orns."

"When have you not been my shadow? I know you watched me closely even as Orion," Optimus raised an optic read, only half teasing. "Though yes, you and Prowl will read over, if not draft all of the correspondence."

"At least you have _some_ sense," Whiplash said, jumping down off his chair. He walked over to Optimus and looked up at him. "Although as much as I'd like to be your literal shadow starting now, if this is the route we're taking, I have some things to tidy up first. Hopefully before anyone gets here. Comm me when you need me."

"Whiplash, if some of that tidying up includes executions, I request that they be put on hold until we know how the Winglord responds to offerings," Prowl spoke up with a serious look at the minibot. "Giving him those convicted of being egg thieves to bring to what justice he wishes could be a powerful persuader that we are serious about peace."

Whiplash nodded once, and slipped out of the room. 

Ratchet sighed. "I have a hatchling to help tend to," he said, then looked at Prime. "Do you want to tell Starscream, or wait until we know more? He could use a visit either way, if you have a few kliks, I just want to know what to say around him."

"I intend to tell him what we are planning," Optimus answered as he stood. "I expect he will take it the most calmly with all four hatchlings in the room." 

Primus, he hoped so. 


	17. Gambling

"My Lord." The Order of the Winglord's Guard stood before the Winglord, wings canted with the proper respect for a higher ranking Order. "We have picked up a small craft approaching from Cybertron. Single occupant, broadcasting peace and a desire to meet with you. Our scans seem to indicate no weaponry."

"Two attempts in as many orns," Thundercracker hummed as he regarded his subordinate. "Guide the ship down. I will speak to this grounder from Cybertron after you confirm both ship and mecha are unarmed."

"Yes, my Lord," the flier said. "How shall it be presented to you, in chains, caged, or at gunpoint?"

"Chains will suffice," Thundercracker decided.

"Very well," the commander said. He canted his respect and left to go see to landing of the grounder craft. 

Skywarp appeared at Thundercracker's side. "Why not all three?" he asked with a wicked grin. "I could arrange it."

"I know," Thundercracker managed not to roll his optics at his Action. "I wish to see how it reacts to just the chains and normal number of guards in the throne room."

"Can I put it in a cage when you're done with it?" Skywarp trilled, trailing a finger up Thundercracker's wing. "I like the idea of a grounder in a cage. It would make a nice decoration."

"It depends on what it says and does, but I expect so," Thundercracker pressed into the touch. "You may not let it deactivate until I say so, however."

"Aww, spoilsport," Skywarp pouted, but Thundercracker knew that his Action would obey without question. Complaining all the way, but he would obey.

* * *

When the grounder was brought in, arms locked behind its wingless back, ankles connected by a short length of chain that forced it to shuffle along, Thundercracker was standing with wings flared wide and imposing. Skywarp was to his left, Farcry was to his right, and they watched in silence as the too-thin thing shuffled forward. Somewhat to everyone's surprise, it stopped several lengths before Thundercracker and bowed deeply.

"Honored Winglord," the blue and white noble said in perfect Vosian. "I bring a message from the Prime on behalf of a Seeker hatchling."

Thundercracker narrowed his optics a little. "And what does the Prime have to do with a seekerling?" he asked.

"The Prime committed to protecting the creator and his creations," the noble explained.

"Some members of the Flock have chosen to leave Vos for Cybertron," Thundercracker said. "I do not stop them. They are free to live the lives they choose, and return to the Flock whenever they wish. What is your Prime's message, then, on behalf of the little wayward one?"

"For the life of a hatchling that is too frail to return to Vos for treatment, the Prime requests for a hatchling specialist to come to Cybertron, under the Prime's protection, to save his spark," the noble answered smoothly. "He also extends an invitation to the Honored Winglord to visit, to speak of improving relations between Vos and Cybertron."

"And why would I want to do that?" Thundercracker asked mildly. 

"For stronger protections for Seekers who visit Cybertron, new trade opportunities, lessening the chance of war, and the opening to declare it officially if that is your desire," the noble offered quietly. "My Prime wishes true peace and to make amends for the wrongs of his predecessors."

"And such wrongs have there been," Thundercracker murmured. His gaze was focused, intense. "But we have grown strong since the time of the Migration, perhaps your Prime wishes a medic to exploit for knowledge of our weaknesses. How do I know this is not the case, since the little one's creator could not ask for help himself? All Seekers belong to the Flock, he would not have been refused." 

"I do not know why the creator did not ask himself. I was not told his designation, or that of the hatchling," the noble admitted. "If you come, I am sure you will be able to speak to him yourself." The slender blue and white noble looked up and his manner shifted slightly, speaking of his heritage and status as a reminder that they did not have some lowly messenger, but a mecha of significant value on Cybertron. "I have come here to speak because my Prime asked me to, but also because I believe that the risk to my existence is worth the benefits of a solid peace. I hope you come to the same conclusion. The risk that this is a lie is worth the potential reward if it is not."

Thundercracker's wings flicked. "Such is your belief." Next to him, his Vision trilled quietly, and Thundercracker smiled back fondly before looking back to the grounder. "But I cannot refuse a hatchling in need, real or not." He looked to the guards standing on either side of the noble. "Take it away and lock it up somewhere. Make sure it can't communicate with its Prime, or any other grounders. It is to remain unharmed for the present."

"Yes, Honored Winglord," the guards responded in unison, and had to hide their surprise when the grounder followed directions to leave as easily as it had to come in.

When they were gone, Thundercracker turned to the Order of the Winglord's Guard. "Gather our best warriors. A third will remain to guard the eyrie. The rest will fly with me to Cybertron. Farcry, contact a hatchling specialist with the necessary skills indicated in the message. The best you can find. If the grounder Prime wishes to speak with me, it will do so on my terms."

* * *

Optimus sighed and tried to focus on the Senate meeting and the vote on reforming public energon production. The reform wasn't going to pass, of course, but that it was even being voted on was a step forward. Stratus kept coming to mind. Optimus remembered the joy of watching the hatchling discovering the crystal gardens, discovering that he could immerse himself in water and pretend to fly.

Now, only orns after his ventilation failure, the hatchling could barely move. Optimus spent almost every free klik in medbay with Starscream, watching the tiny, _tiny_ creature floating in his tank, optics flickering and plating heaving with effort. The underdeveloped frame, the Shuttle told him, was literally pulling itself apart. The muted, pained keens were a sound he would never forget. 

"My Lord Prime," came a quiet voice from near his waist. He glanced down at Whiplash, knowing full well that there were precious few things that would draw the Special Operations Commander to speak to him out in the open, and none of them were good.

"Speak," he responded quietly, but with the authority that was beginning to take hold in his processors. He still didn't _like_ addressing mecha as a Prime 'should', but he was getting better at it not looking faked and unnatural.

"There's a situation," Whiplash said. "I need you to come with me. Ironhide is waiting for you."

"Timing could not be much worse," Optimus sighed, then gave a rumble for attention. "We will finish this session when I return," he announced to a mixture of shock, anger and smug looks, but ignored them all to follow the minibot out. Whiplash would not fetch him like this if it was not of absolute importance.

It didn't take long for them to reach Ironhide in the primary planetary defense control center. The red mech was looking at screens and barking orders into different comms, and he only looked up when Prime was right next to him. He looked startled, and then saw Whiplash. 

"Ah told ya ah could handle it until he was free!" the old warrior protested.

"Report," Optimus insisted as the Special Operations Commander remained silent.

Ironhide cleared his vocalizer and stood up straight. "Got about fifty incomin' from Vos, an' a ship followin' behind. Be here 'round dawn at current speed. All look armed." 

"Any attempt at contact?" Optimus's spark clenched.

"Nah yet, Prime." Ironhide pulled up the readings showing the Seekers' progress. "Looks like Iacon's the target righ' now." 

"Attempt to open a comm," Optimus ordered, protocols he wasn't at all familiar with flaring to life and prominence. "They were invited."

Ironhide's optics snapped open in shock, but he obeyed a moment later, patching it through to the console. They listened to the silence of an unanswered line for a long half klik, then a deep voice answered in rumbling Vosian.

"The Winglord has come to speak to the Prime."

"Then the Winglord and his guard are welcome here. Is a hatchling specialist with you?" Optimus replied, sticking to Imperial rather than insult them by butchering their dialect.

"One is. Please provide coordinates for his patient," the voice answered. "He will be escorted by members of the guard, that is a non-negotiable point."

"Do so," Optimus ordered Ironhide, who was trying not to sputter. "Include the recommendation and path between the Residence garden and medbay." He turned back to the comm. "The medbay has no air access. The path indicated will be the quickest route. Where does the Winglord wish to meet?"

"He is sure the Prime will arrange for a suitable location," the unknown Seeker answered. "He would prefer the open sky, and somewhere private. The Prime is permitted guards, as the Winglord will have his."

"Understood," Optimus replied and allowed the line to go into standby. He glanced at Whiplash. "Garden or roof?"

Whiplash groaned. "How about a secured underground ring?" He waited for the look and then waved his hand. "Fine, fine. Garden. More places for us to hide."

"Just keep in mind that there are going to be a couple dozen Seekers plus my guards there," Optimus said. He didn't care if it was redundant. He wanted it said. "Ironhide, inform them that the location will be the Residence garden."

"Righ'," Ironhide grumbled, and sent the comm. It was received with a ping of acknowledgment, and then the line cut. 

"Well," Whiplash said. "I'll be in the garden setting up. You might want to get some rest while you can."

* * *

Optimus went to medbay after leaving the control room, slipping into the darkened room. The lights were dimmed at night when possible, now that Starscream refused to leave. 

"Hey," Ratchet whispered, looking up from some of his work. "What's up?" 

"Is Starscream available?" 

"He's recharging over by the tank," Ratchet said. "Stratus is resting for the night." 

Optimus nodded. "A medic is coming from Vos, he should be here in ten joors."

"I'll be ready," Ratchet said. "I'll let Starscream know when he boots up next."

"Thank you, my friend, but I have a feeling I won't see much of him for a while," Optimus said. "I'd like to tell him myself while I have the time." 

Ratchet nodded in understanding, then gave a bitter smile. "He doesn't stay in recharge for long anyway." 

Optimus returned the smile with an understanding one of his own before heading over to Starscream. He could see Stratus's silhouette floating gently in the tank, and next to it Starscream was slumped, helm to the glass. Optimus watched for a moment, then went over and knelt down. "Starscream," he murmured, stroking the Seeker's wing.

"Mmrrh?" Crimson optics lit with a flare. "What? Stratus!" Starscream looked around frantically for his smallest creation, realized that it wasn't Ratchet waking him, and made the effort to focus on Prime. "What?"

"I'm sorry to wake you," Optimus said, and kept stroking the white wings in easy, soothing circles. "But I thought you'd want to know. A medic is coming from Vos. The Winglord and his guard are also coming, but they wanted the fastest route to get to Stratus. It should be about ten joors."

"Really?" Starscream stared at him, trying to make his processors believe the words. "You called, and he _came?_ Does he know who I am?"

Optimus nuzzled his mate's neck. "I do command _some_ respect in this universe, grounder or not," he murmured. "He doesn't know who you are, or who Stratus is, or how you got here. I'm going to tell him everything once he's here, but the choice to release your designation is yours alone."

"Let me tell him," Starscream said wearily as he shifted to lean on Optimus. "I have to admit my real designation to petition for legal control of the hatchlings anyway."

Optimus nodded and wrapped an arm around him. "No matter what happens after, the important thing right now is that Stratus is getting the help he needs."

"Yes." Starscream reached out to touch the tank, wings sagging with relief. "He'll be taken care of now. The Winglord will know it was no lie to draw him here."

"I will make sure of it," Optimus said. "I have a little time, can I stay with you or would you like to recharge some more? You haven't been resting."

"Stay, recharge," Starscream murmured as his optics began to power down. "You need rest too."

"I know," Optimus sighed heavily, and carefully shifted himself around so that he was sitting with his back to the wall against the tank, and pulled Starscream into his lap to recharge with him for a precious few joors.

* * *

Optimus Prime stood in the middle of the Resident's garden, staring into the lightening sky. He could see the shadow of the incoming Seekers, glinting in the rising sun. At first, they'd looked more like a small electric storm than what they really were, but they were close enough to see definition now. 

In front was a blue and silver flier, the one that Optimus guessed was the Winglord. He was flanked by two others, and the rest of his guard was flying in formation behind. 

Optimus could sense Ironhide shifting at his side, and while he wouldn't call the old fighter nervous, there was a definite unease to his field. Prowl was to his right, and he knew that there were shadows hidden all over the garden and surrounding walls, ready to move in if things went wrong. He could only hope that the Winglord was willing to hear what Optimus was going to say.

And as if things weren't already stressful enough, there was also Starscream to consider. It would be both potential risk and windfall for him to speak with the medic and the Winglord, and no way to know which one until it happened. As Optimus understood it, the worst case scenario was all four hatchlings being forcefully taken away and returned to Starscream's flock's Order for custody. Best case, Starscream would keep custody. 

But worrying about it wouldn't help, so Optimus stood there, steady and calm, his field reaching out to steady Ironhide, as they watched the Seekers come in for a landing. Roughly half transformed and set down. The rest remained in the air in alt mode.

To the grounders, it was an awesome sight of incredible coordination.

"Welcome, Honored Winglord Thundercracker," Optimus did his best to act as an equal to this proud warrior and not mangle his title or designation. Starscream had helped coach the enunciation just groons earlier. 

"The Prime of the grounders speaks well," the Winglord said. His wings were flared wide as he looked around, judging and assessing his surroundings. "Is this where we are to meet?" 

"It is," Optimus said. "Anything you need or desire can be brought here, so long as it is something I can provide." 

Thundercracker nodded and held his arm out. A white Seeker with blue trim and a circular insignia on his wings stepped forward. "This is Espera, the requested medic. Before anything else, I wish to ensure he reaches the hatchling. We will be joining him temporarily." 

Optimus couldn't have hidden his approval if he'd tried, and he wasn't at all trying. "This way. His creator, siblings, my physician and the medic from Helex that advised us on the hatchlings are with him."

"Very good," Thundercracker said, following Optimus inside and through the halls. The purple and black jet stayed to his left, the cream colored one to his right, both of them silent. Espera walked behind them. Five of the guard followed after them; the rest remained in the garden. 

Ratchet and Pullus were waiting out in the open in the medbay, and Optimus saw that Stratus had been moved to one of the portable tanks and was waiting near a fully equipped exam berth. Starscream was behind, wings quivering anxiously. They hiked up even further when he saw the Winglord. That didn't bother Fyat, who was clinging to his helm, chirping with the occasional glyph in Imperial or Vosian, while Pathfinder had secured a spot on top of a supply cabinet nearby and Farsight held onto one of Starscream's legs. 

"Honored Winglord, these are Ratchet, Pullus and the Seeker I have taken in," Optimus introduced them smoothly. "This is Espera, the hatchling specialist."

"And this must be the one I was called here to see," Espera trilled, stepping forward to the tank. Pullus handed him a datapad that he began scanning through, glancing between it and Stratus. When he finished, nodding his satisfaction with the record keeping, he dipped his hand into the coolant and lifted the limp hatchling, getting no more protest than a weak and confused trill. "Oh, yes, this is quite advanced," he said sadly as he set the hatchling on the blankets laid out for him. 

"How advanced?" Starscream asked sharply, voice cracking with static. "Too advanced? Can you help him?" 

"I will do my best," Espera promised. He lowered one wing and looked over his shoulder at Thundercracker. "It is my professional opinion that this hatchling's need is both great and real, and that it was not purposefully inflicted as a ruse."

"Of course it wasn't!" Starscream gave a shrill screech of abject horror at the idea, but quickly focused on Espera. "What I can do to help?"

"For now, keep your other little ones calm," Espera said, and cooed to Farsight when the hatchling climbed onto his pede, looking up at the adult Seeker with some amazement. Espera scooped him up and handed him over to Starscream, then looked around for Ratchet, and began to rattle off a list of tools he required. His hands transformed into a series of instruments small enough for a hatchling's frame, and when Ratchet and Pullus went to get the requested supplies, he looked back to Starscream. "It's your choice, of course, but I find most carriers don't like to watch this part, and I doubt it will sit well with your others. Is there someplace you can wait with them?"

Starscream wavered, then nodded and trilled at Pathfinder to jump down into his arms. "We'll be in our nest. It isn't far."

"I'll comm you if anything happens," Ratchet promised as he returned with a box of supplies. He set them down near Espera and went to shoo the nervous creator out.

"Let us leave the medics to their work," Thundercracker said and turned to leave with his trine and guard. On one wing, he was relieved that that reason was genuine and not created by malice. On another, he was very disturbed by a Seeker, even a young, untrined one, being so reluctant to return home or admit who he was with young hatchlings.

"Wait," Farcry said suddenly, just before Starscream was out of sight, and ran to catch up with him. After a nod from Thundercracker, Skywarp followed. "I'll stay with you," Farcry told the young Vision.

Starscream nodded, and all three adults disappeared through the door. 

Thundercracker looked back to the hatchling on the table and saw the thin outer layers of his protoform already pulled open. He sent a silent prayer to the stars to help the little one, and then headed back to the garden, trusting the Prime to follow. Once there, he ordered his guard back far enough to give the illusion of privacy, and Optimus did the same. 

"You must realize the questions I have," Thundercracker said. 

"Many of them, yes," Optimus nodded as he motioned for Thundercracker to sit on a bench looking at one of the carved crystal fountains. "I wish to begin with a promise I made to the carrier. His designation, and that of his hatchlings, is his to divulge. Other than that, I will answer your questions."

Thundercracker regarded him. "How exactly did an untrined young Vision come to be in your care, and his hatchlings as well?

Optimus cycled his vents, preparing himself. "Before I became Prime, I knew little of the behavior of those with credits and power. After, I learned about a practice involving Seeker eggs, and what was being done to produce them. I immediately ordered my Special Operations team to begin hunting down those who were taking part in the production, sale, and" He hesitated, watching the Winglord's building anger. "And consumption. I wanted it all destroyed, and as many rescued as possible. The one you just met, he was being held prisoner in one of the facilities that my Ops team raided. He was already egg-heavy. I swore to protect him and the eggs he had." 

Thundercracker's optics had gone bright and a low snarl vibrated through his engines and turbines as Optimus spoke. "Why was he not returned to Vos _immediately?_ " he asked with thunder in his voice. Optimus felt the air around them tighten. 

"His nest was here," Optimus said, skirting around that particular truth. "We were caring for him. He had come to Cybertron hoping to stay and make a life, and I promised to help him achieve that." 

"And when you became Prime," Thundercracker rumbled. "When you decided it was _your_ job to save _my_ Flock, why didn't you let us know? How long has it been since you took up this responsibility?"

"Seventeen vorns," Optimus said. 

" _Seventeen vorns,_ " the Winglord hissed. "And in all that time, you didn't report to me?"

"We do not report the criminal activities of our own citizens to other governments," Optimus said, steel in his voice. "Those immigrants and tourists who went missing were documented in case the information was ever requested of us. It never was." 

"We were focused on stopping those grounders who come to Vos to steal," Thundercracker said, then smirked. "It might interest you to know that the thieves we catch do not die easily. I take joy in hearing their screams." 

Optimus cycled his vents. "On Cybertron, anyone convicted of knowingly and willingly partaking in the production, sale, and consumption of eggs loses their status as citizen and mecha." 

Thundercracker's wings lifted in surprise before quickly settling into their flat, angry stance. "You would do that to your own people?" 

"Anyone who would make profit on the death of an innocent life is not one of my people," Optimus rumbled. 

"Then tell me, oh great Prime of the groundkissers," Thundercracker said, "How did these _organizations_ come to be so well hidden, and why were they allowed to exist? How long have they been thriving on your _cesspool_ of a planet?" 

"The Primes who came before me made many mistakes, and one of them was to not stop this organized trade in its infancy," Optimus said easily. "It is a past I regret, but not one that I can change. What I can do, what I am doing, is changing the future." 

"Changing," Thundercracker said, repeating the glyph and its tense. "The process is ongoing?"

"It is," Optimus said. 

"There are still Visions of my Flock being tortured and raped, eggs being stolen and consumed on your planet?" Thundercracker's optics narrowed. 

"We are making _every effort_ to free them," Optimus said. "The process is long and difficult--" 

"Why?" 

"They are well hidden," Optimus said. "Care must be taken not to let the ones we have located know or else they will only bury themselves in deeper--" 

"I will make it less difficult," Thundercracker said, rising and walking back in the direction of his guard. "If all the grounders are dead, then I will know that so are the thieves and murderers." 

"If you want to declare war on us, I can't stop you!" Optimus said, voice raising after the Winglord. Thundercracker stopped, wings cocked back. "But I can beg you to reconsider, for both our peoples and their future. Fear of that course stopped us from reaching out to you in the first place. Fear of that course might be that hatchling's ultimate downfall. Many more of your kin would deactivate." 

"In the service of freeing our trapped Visions," Thundercracker said with a shrug. "It is a noble way to join our kindred in the sky." 

Optimus paused, then stood. "Before you make your decision, I would like to show you something, and make you a promise," he said. 

Thundercracker turned back. "Talk quickly, _grounder_." 

"Follow me and I will tell you." Optimus turned without waiting to make sure he would be followed, and made his way to the collection of crystal boxes that stood as temporary memorial to the lost. 

Thundercracker came even with him, looking at them in silence for a long klik. "The carrier you rescued made these?"

"He gave me the details for the boxes, I had them made. He ground the contents of each himself," Optimus said.

"He did well," Thundercracker said. "If this is what you would show me, then what was your promise?"

"I swear that every mecha convicted of being involved with the creation, sale, and consumption of eggs will be given to Vos," Optimus rumbled.

The Winglord's wings hiked up and he looked at the Prime with disbelief, then determination. "Every thief," he hissed.

"Every last one," Optimus replied, the powerful disgust in his field at their actions a thick promise between them. "They are evil."

Thundercracker flicked his wings in agreement. "It may not be the full retribution owed, but it is a start. I will delay my decision. Now, you will tell me _everything_ about who has been convicted, their fates, who is still free and what you are doing about it."

Optimus paused, then nodded. "Someone from Special Operations can give you much more accurate information than I can."

"Then summon them," Thundercracker said. "We'll see if the grounders are doing enough to help those in need, or if someone else should take control."

* * *

"Who?" Fyat pointed at Skywarp from where she was perched on her creator's helm as he ducked into the passageway to the nest. "Why come in?"

"That is Skywarp, the Winglord's Action," Starscream answered her with more calm than he expected he'd have right now.

She paused, staring at him, then clicked at him a bit with a scowl. "Don't care if he is flock to all. Nest not for _strangers_."

Skywarp peered at her. "How old are you?" 

"Ten decaorns and nine orns," she answered, but one claw tapped lightly on Starscream's helm.

"That is correct, Fyat," he answered, causing her to puff with pride.

"So young," Farcry murmured. He was lingering back, moving more slowly through the tunnel, examining the tangle of the outer nest. "You built this yourself?" 

"I couldn't stop myself," Starscream said dryly. 

"It's a strong nest," Farcry said. "Beautifully designed, intelligent, almost artful." 

"You never say _my_ nests are artful," Skywarp pouted, looking back at him. 

"They are strong and secure, but not artful," the Vision said gently as they finally crawled into the innermost nest. 

Starscream set the two larger hatchlings down before sitting, his back against a wall in a depression that was clearly too large to only be his recharge place. "Not everyone builds nests the same?"

"Didn't you see nests in your eyrie?" Farcry asked carefully as he settled and held a hand out in Pathfinder and Farsight's direction. Fyat hissed at him from the top of Starscream's helm, but her brothers clicked back at her and Starscream could only chuckle.

"I saw a few as a youngling, but I never got to go inside and didn't pay much attention to how they were built. I never intended to be a creator, but I'll never give them up," Starscream reached up to stroke Fyat until she cooed with pleasure.

Farsight crept forward until he could touch one of Farcry's fingertips, trilling with interest at the mecha that looked so much like _Carrier_ but was different. 

"I've never seen a nest built by a Vision before, truthfully," Farcry said. He looked at up at Fyat, who was still watching both him and Skywarp suspiciously. "She is very intelligent." 

"Yes, she is. I hope she continues her education to the very top." Starscream couldn't help but beam with pride. "She is very much like me. She's a fierce protector too, afraid of nothing."

"Any hatchling who would threaten the Winglord's Action must have no fears," Farcry chuckled as Farsight climbed into his hand. He fell silent, watching Starscream with Fyat. "You have such a natural way with them, how is it you weren't planning to create?"

"I thought I was an Order. I wanted to be a researcher, and I got into the fast track for post-grad studies while I was still a mechling," Starscream said, staring at his fists. "Then this stupid transmitter turned on and no one would take me seriously anymore." He tried to keep his anger and frustration in check with only some success, and couldn't quite keep his growl down. All three of his hatchlings huddled close to him and trilled distress until he calmed down enough to trill back at them that everything was fine long enough they believed it. "I had a plan for my life and it didn't involve creating. I never found youngsters appealing until all this creator coding rewrote my priority trees once I was egg-heavy."

"There are many Visions who work in the scientific fields," Farcry said carefully. "Visions who are taken seriously by their peers and elders. Being one does not preclude the others." 

"Not what I experienced," Starscream scowled at him, his armor ruffling in a very Order-feeling-threatened way. "My flock Order refused to support my education after that, he said I had enough already. I still managed to graduate, top of my class, and _no one_ would even look at my credentials. I had a degree and couldn't do anything with it. These grounders may be prejudiced against anything with wings, but at least they're open about it. It would be a fight for recognition, but I could have it."

"You weren't planning to trine either," Skywarp said, somewhere between sure, shocked and questioning.

"No, I wasn't," Starscream said, calming along with his creations.

Farcry's wings lifted in shock. "But _why?_ "

"Because they all wanted somebody to sit in the eyrie, tend to creations and exist only to be a breeder and servant for them," Starscream huffed. "I wanted better for myself."

"That is _not_ all a Vision can be," Farcry said firmly. "We are as free as Orders and Actions to choose our paths. Your flock Order was wrong to make you feel unsupported. He mislead you. If you come back to Vos, we'll help you get into research. I promise."

"Then name one Vision who leads a department or university or research facility," Starscream challenged. "Just one. I'll make it two."

I--" Farcry said, and Starscream's optics narrowed when he saw the comprehension flash over the other Vision's face. 

"I thought so. I can be a scientist, but never be one of _importance_ ," Starscream sighed. "Not in Vos at any rate."

"Department heads are Orders," Skywarp said.

"And I can't be, not because I don't have the ability, or education, or anything else, but because of a defect in my coding," Starscream hissed, then forcefully settled his wings when Fyat chirped her concern. "I'll be what I _know_ I'm meant to be, even if it means living with grounders. At least _some_ of them are willing to overlook my wings and see that I can do the job. Some are willing to give me a chance. Not a single mecha on Vos would."

"But not to trine..." Farcry said, looking at Skywarp. "I don't know what I would do without my trine. It's an experience like creation, you don't understand until you've done it."

"Then I won't miss it if I don't," Starscream shrugged. "I'll take a mate who supports me over a trine that doesn't any orn."

"You have a mate?" Skywarp perked up sharply.

"A trine _would_ support you," Farcry cut in, but when Starscream frowned at him, canted his wings back. "All right, all right. You have a mate?" 

"Yes, it so happens I do," Starscream said. "I _left_ Vos because it wasn't a good place for me. Like I'm allowed to."

"Who? Why isn't he here? Why did he let you be captured?" Skywarp twitched uneasily, his thoughts swirling at all the _wrong_ he saw.

"I met him after I was freed," Starscream said with a shrug, examining his fingers. "And I _presume_ he isn't here because he's chatting up the Winglord."

There was a flicker of confusion between the two Seekers, which cleared in Farcry first. "You've mated with their Prime?"

"Why?" Skywarp scowled, liking this less and less.

"Because he gives incredible wing rubs," Starscream said, frowning at him and lifting his wings in warning. "I invited you into my nest so you wouldn't have to leave your Vision, not to question my life. I'm not afraid to revoke your welcome and make you leave." Fyat picked up on her carrier's darkened mood and hissed at the adult that could fit her in one palm and crush her with a single finger.

Skywarp scowled back until he flinched for no outward reason and dropped his gaze and wings a bit. "Sorry."

"Good," Starscream said, resettling his wings into a more neutral hold. "I lived through Pit, and then I found someone who doesn't care that I'm a Vision, or that I never want to create again, or that I want to head universities, or that I have wings. That he's powerful, protective, intelligent, and good with his hands only makes it better. I don't particularly care what you think about the whole thing, though you're doing a good job of reminding me why I left."

"Skywarp doesn't always think before he speaks," Farcry said smoothly with a softer trill and reassuring cant for his Action. "Come here, little one." He held out his hand for Fyat. She looked at it suspiciously until Starscream chirped his encouragement. 

"Do you plan to expose them to Vosian culture?" Farcry asked curiously once he had the hatchling. 

"I won't stop them from exploring it if they want when they're old enough to fly," Starscream said. "They can decide on their own where they want to live. None of them are pure Seeker, though, so I have no idea how they'll take to it or be accepted."

"They certainly _look_ Seeker, and speak 'cant," Farcry said as Fyat finished examining his fingers and began crawling up his arm.

"Teek like any other hatchlings too," Skywarp added, trying to be mindful of the situation and not be nosy about the exact origin of the seekerlings. 

"This one is likely to do well at whatever she sets her processors towards," Farcry said with an indulgent smile for the incredibly young hatchling crawling and climbing on him in an effort to reach his helm and perch there. "I expect the other two strong ones are nearly as good, just much quieter."

"I would expect nothing less of my creations," Starscream said with a smirk, settling back to watch his creations exploring the other Seekers. 

Farcry and Skywarp stayed in the nest through the orn and even though Starscream could tell that it was to keep him distracted from thinking about Stratus, he appreciated it. It was nice to be around wing frames again, to speak in full 'cant and know that they understood it, to not have to explain trine and flock dynamics every time they came up. 

The door chimed and Starscream let it open when he saw Prowl outside.

"Stratus has been stabilized for a break in the surgery, and Espera wishes to speak with you," Prowl said evenly as he ducked into the inner nest. "I will watch the hatchlings if you wish."

Starscream immediately got to his pedes as the hatchlings launched off of Skywarp's shoulder and ran to Prowl, Farsight and Pathfinder chirping in excitement and Fyat trilling his designation. 

"A favorite sitter," Farcry said with a smile. "You haven't suffered for lack of a flock, I see."

"No, we haven't," Starscream couldn't help but take some pride that his creations, young as they were, already had friends of a sort. "It's taken time, but we are building one," he added as he left, glancing at Farcry and Skywarp to see if they were coming as Prowl settled and brought out a building game for the hatchlings. They were both smiling and watching the hatchlings, and Starscream left alone. 

"How is he?" he demanded as he came into medbay, looking around for his creation. He spotted him immediately, the prone and stasis-held hatchling in an enclosed incubator. Thin mesh covered his form, a nutrient-rich cover to protect and heal the damaged protoform. " _Stratus._ " He rushed over, hands going to the glass. 

"He is doing better than I expected," Espera said as he came up to the young Seeker, his field calm and steadying. "His odds are much improved over what I estimated this morning. As malformed as he is, you cared for him very well. Quality supplements, good quality energon, little stress and good medical care given the conditions."

"They deserve the best," Starscream said, wings shaking with relief. "Healthy or not." 

"Even though he's not of your frame?" Espera asked carefully.

Starscream stiffened, then gave a low hiss of annoyance. "Should have known you'd be able to tell," he said. 

"Yes, and now I need to know who his carrier is," Espera said.

"Why?" Starscream hissed quietly, wings flattening dangerously. "It doesn't matter, he's _mine_. _I_ nested him, _I_ hatched him, _I_ raised him, and _I_ love him." 

"Because he is not of your frame," Espera explained calmly. "Which means anything I might learn from your frame and sparkline is useless. I know his carrier did not survive separation, at least not for long. To have a sparkling that badly off the carrier must have been very weak, and details like that can be crucial. And his flock should know. You know I'm required to report to his legal guardian, and that isn't you."

"You know nothing, and if you think for one moment that I'm going to let you take him away from me..." Starscream shook his head. "I'm happy to let his flock know, but on _my_ terms."

"I'm not going to take him. I have no intention of even trying," Espera struggled to back off without abandoning what he needed to know. "I still need to know his carrier's designation. Some treatments do not work as well for some sparklines."

"I've never heard of anything like that, that's a lie," Starscream said sharply. 

"You have medical training?" Espera asked carefully.

Fingers curled into fists. "I don't," Starscream was forced to admit. He stared down at Stratus. "If it's so important why do you suddenly need to know _now?_ "

"I did not want to ask in front of others that you may not wish to know. Patient confidentiality is important," Espera said gently. "I would have liked to know when I began, but now is better than never."

Starscream wavered. "If you'd just found him like this with nothing and no one, you'd still be able to treat him."

"Yes," Espera canted his wings in confirmation. "However, it is good to know if he responds differently than most to pain blockers, anti-viral coding, sedatives. It's very good to know if his self-repair is more or less likely to reject additions, or if his spark or frame lines have quirks that could affect this treatment. There is a network of documented line abnormalities, I just need a sparkline."

Starscream watched his hatchling's spark light pulsing through the light mesh. "His carrier's designation was Cirrus," he finally said, speaking the full designation as Cirrus had only given him once, with subharmonics of flock and family. "His sire was a grounder, and I don't know anything else about _it_."

Espera nodded, and there was a beat before he smiled. "That sparkline is not one of the known lines for issues." He paused. "Will you tell me the hatchling's designation?"

Starscream smiled. "Stratus," he said, then glanced back. "The egg wasn't released naturally, I don't know if that's important." 

"Yes," Espera tensed. "How close to release was it when it was taken out?"

"I don't know," Starscream said. "Close, though. No more than a few orns." 

"Then it is unlikely to have a significant effect," Espera said with relief. "Separation can be induced with little risk as early as twelve orns before they naturally would." He smiled at the way Starscream looked and reacted to the hatchling that was in no way of his flock. "May I know your designation?"

"Starscream." He shrugged. "Not like it's going to be quiet after this."

Espera stilled for a long klik while Starscream happily cooed at his creation. "The creation of Ripwing, Longjump, and Chiindii?"

Starscream's wings flinched a little, but he nodded. 

"You should be aware that you are a carrier of one known spark abnormality. We call it Sensus Disparatus," Espera said carefully. "It comes from Longjump's line and originated in military intelligence. The stronger the mecha's processors, the more resistant they are to sedatives and anti-virals of the 3rd, 6th and 7b lines. Visions with unusually high intelligence are often indistinguishable from Orders in temperament. I already know enough to know that coding is very active and strong in you. I expect all three of your creations will have some conditions associated with it."

Starscream didn't move for a moment, then whirled around. "There's a _reason_ I feel like an Order and _no one told me?_ " he snarled. "I'm this way because of some military _experiment?_ "

"As I understand it, and keep in mind this is neither my field nor my specialty, it was not an experiment," Espera said. "It was a reasonably natural progression that came of military types trining with other military types, and most military Visions being very similar to Orders or even Actions to survive. The military has a rather different social structure than civilian flocks. The resistant to sedatives and anti-virals is also common in the scientific fields. The faster and more complex the processors, the faster they break down inhibitors of all kinds." Espera shook his helm. "I expect if you'd been in a military flock you would not have felt the need to leave to keep your coding happy. I am sorry no one told you. I expect no one in your creation flock knew."

"This must be a _recent_ discovery," Starscream nearly growled before he turned back around. "I've never heard of such a thing before, obviously neither had Longjump. Most of the spark lines have been tracked?"

"It is believed that we have a solid accounting of most affected fliers," Espera dipped his wings in confirmation.

Starscream scowled at nothing in particular before trilling to Stratus again, even though the hatchling couldn't hear him. "You think he'll be all right?"

"Yes," Espera smiled gently. "I believe I can repair him so he has a full existence. He will probably be smaller than average as an adult and may need supportive structures, and I don't think he will be capable of supporting any terribly specialized or draining upgrades, but his lifespan will be normal and he will fly." 

Starscream sagged with relief. "Thank you."

Espera put a hand on Starscream's shoulder. "The quality of your care so far enabled such a good prognosis. You are an exceptional creator."

Starscream managed half a smirk. "Just my luck," he said. He glanced at the medic. "I suppose you're going to report to his legal flock."

"Yes," Espera flicked his wings in apology. "If you speak to the Winglord and petition for legal custody of all four, I will speak on your behalf."

"Thank you," Starscream said, before his field sharpened with grim determination. "I pulled his egg from his carrier's deactivated frame with my own hands, I'm not letting go any time soon."

* * *

Optimus left Thundercracker and his guards to the guidance of Jazz while he slipped into the medbay ahead of them to rouse Starscream and warn him that the Winglord was coming. He found his mate as expected, slumped forward against the incubator where Stratus was resting with two hatchlings on his lap and Fyat on his helm, all five soundly in recharge.

"Starscream," he kept his voice low as he gently rubbed one wing. "You need to boot up."

"Mm, what?" Starscream roused quickly through a rapid boot, though Optimus suspected he hadn't been very deep in recharge anyway. Even though Stratus was getting better, Starscream refused to leave him for a single moment that wasn't necessary. He first ensured that Stratus was still safely in calm recharge, then looked blearily up and saw Optimus and processed the words. "Why?"

"The Winglord wishes to speak with you. He'll be here in a klik," Optimus said with a kiss to Starscream's cheek. "Do you want me to take the hatchlings for the night?"

Starscream uncurled and stretched with a groan. "Yeah. Otherwise Fyat will probably try to claw him and I don't think he'll appreciate it."

"It wouldn't surprise me, and no, I don't expect he would," Optimus couldn't help a deep chuckle as the hatchlings began to rouse and chirp a greeting to him. "Come, little ones," he gathered the larger two from Starscream's lap before setting Fyat on his shoulder, knowing she'd claw her way up if he didn't.

She nuzzled against him. "Stratus gets more repairs?" she asked in Imperial.

"Soon," Optimus told her, then looked to Starscream. "There are guards nearby to protect you as well. If you need them, just call."

Starscream nodded. "I'll be fine. He won't try anything with a hatchling in the room." He touched the glass. "Especially a sick one." He stood and stretched again, then leaned in for a kiss. It ended just before the door to medbay opened and the Winglord came strolling in, gaze sweeping around. 

"Honored Winglord," Starscream said, placing a hand over his spark and canting his wings with minimal sarcasm.

"Winglord Thundercracker," Optimus inclined his helm in a carefully calculated move of respect to an equal. "I will see you for mid-orn fuel," he said before walking out with all three hatchlings. Fyat, true to form, glared at Thundercracker the entire way but didn't hiss this time. It was still easy to read her intent: harm my flock and I'll harm you.

From an adult it might have been insulting or worse. From such a young hatchling, it was both adorable and endearing to see such strong loyalty.

Thundercracker waited until Optimus was gone before striding over to Stratus and looking into the incubator. "So you're the cause of all the fuss," he said, peering in. "Quite small for his age, but Espera tells me he's doing well?"

"Yes. He should recover enough to fly," Starscream said softly without even trying to hide his relief.

"That's what matters," Thundercracker said. "You've been an exceptional creator, given the circumstances." His wings moved slowly, taking Starscream in. "Espera also tells me you aren't his carrier, that it isn't possible he came from the same clutch as the other three, or from you."

Starscream's optics dimmed as he steeled himself. "I've cared for him since I freed his egg from his carrier's deactivated frame." He tried to hold the trembling in check. "I'm the only carrier he knows. His clutch-mates _are_ mine."

"They belong to the Order of your flock," Thundercracker said. "And the little one belongs to the Order of his carrier's flock. You know this."

"I know you can change that," Starscream countered. "What _Seeker_ would want half-breeds with no Vision to care for them?"

"There would be Visions, there are always Visions," Thundercracker said with a shrug. "It is not their fault they are half-breeds, it only means they cannot create. The rest of their lives are theirs to live fully surrounded by fliers who understand them and don't hate them for their wings."

"No, just to hate and reject them for being what they are, just as I was," Starscream snarled. "I _left_ for a shot at being what I am. I _will_ give them the same opportunity. I'll hide them from everything with wings if I have to, to give them that chance." His optics flared bright red as his wings lifted defiantly. This was no longer the Winglord before him, but his own flock Order. The same attitude, the same condemnation for anything _different_ , and the same hate flared in Starscream's spark in response.

" _Steady_ , young one," Thundercracker said with a rumble that echoed through his voice and the air around them. "They are part of my Flock, and I will see that they are taken care of. But I cannot see how leaving them on a planet of thieves and murderers is the right way to do that."

"Because their _creators_ are here," Starscream retorted, though he felt himself obeying the order to calm all the same. "They'll only be without Seeker-kin if you force the issue. They are my creations, the creations of the Prime, and we _will_ protect them, even from you if need be. I don't care if I have to sacrifice everything and hide for the rest of my life to keep them safe." 

"There's no need to protect them from me," Thundercracker said, and his voice softened. "I don't intend to take them from you. You've cared for them, and from what I hear, lived through torture for them. Would you return to Vos, if I asked you to, for them?"

As much as Starscream rebelled at the thought, he was caught by the coding that encouraged obedience to the Winglord and couldn't completely shake it. "Why?" he asked instead.

"Legally, the flocks will put up less fuss that way," Thundercracker said, and then the thunder returned to his voice. "And I want _every_ Seeker off this forsaken wasteland."

As much as he liked the idea of having a flock around, knowledge of just who those Seekers were made Starscream resistant. He didn't want any of them around his creations. "Maybe," he answered warily. "That was not what we planned and it is not as simple as you would have it be. Not for any who moved here by choice."

"There are _murderers_ here," Thundercracker said. "You lived through it, you know better than anyone. I want our kin off the surface so I don't have to worry about them when we start searching for the thieves."

"Yes, and there on monsters in Vos too," Starscream flicked his wings with a shudder at memories of the pain from both places. "I also know just how safe we are _here_." He cocked his helm at the supposed leader of his kind. "When it comes right down to it, I trust Optimus to take care of us more than I do the flock that raised me. He's not perfect and he's a grounder, but he does a much better job of it."

"Do you think he's doing a good enough job for your kin who are still trapped and suffering?" Thundercracker asked.

"A war of extermination? Yes, I think it's enough and he's doing enough." Starscream hated to say it, but he wasn't about to invite a war. "I've seen what he's accomplished since he came to power, and it's a lot more than your entire army would in twice the time. At least he knows what he's looking for."

Thundercracker nodded and then trilled when Stratus's optics came online and sought him out. "Who was his carrier?" he asked. "Is he one of those in the garden?"

"Yes," Starscream's fight fled him for a brief moment. "They didn't get there in time to save him, but the Praxian was willing to take the shot meant for me. Not that it would have mattered if he'd gotten there earlier. Cirrus didn't have anything left anyway. He wouldn't have survived even if he'd lasted long enough for the egg to separate normally."

Thundercracker moved his finger back and forth in front of Stratus, watching the hatchling track the movement. "Poor little thing, never to know his carrier. I can't imagine what mine would have done without Farcry."

"Hopefully you're a good enough creator to step up and do what needed to be done," Starscream could only shrug. "There's a lot worse than having creators that love you enough to fight for you to have a chance."

"It's true," Thundercracker said, and cooed a little when Stratus pressed a hand under his fingertip. "From all accounts, you certainly do love them." 

"They're mine," Starscream said the only thing he could. "How could I not? Even my carrier loved me."

Thundercracker nodded, then x-vented heavily. "Your Prime is impressive, for a grounder. His conviction, and yours, may well save this entire planet, so long as the thieves are mine as promised." He looked over his shoulder. "And in the long run, I think it might be better for everyone that you stayed here." 

"I got the ones I really cared about," Starscream chuckled darkly. "I won't contest it. He's good to his word. You'll see."

"I'm willing to believe you," Thundercracker said, smiling at the hatchling. "Can I spend some time with your others before I go? It's been centuries since our last clutch left the eyrie."

Starscream flicked his wings in agreement. "It would be good for them to meet more Seekers. Just be tolerant of Fyat. She's got a pretty solid bite to back up her screech," he actually chuckled. "Her brothers are much more mellow."

"Mm, I've been bitten by hatchlings before," Thundercracker chuckled. He straightened up and turned around. "You'll have to petition for legalities, of course, and I haven't made up my mind yet, so do a good job of it. And I'm sure your flock will want to see you, once they hear what happened."

"I will," Starscream promised quietly as he sat down next to the incubator. It put him right next to the Winglord, but he couldn't stay away from his creation any longer. "Are you going to order me to see them?"

"No," Thundercracker said. "But I have creations your age and I know how I would feel if I found out..." He shook his helm. "Those poor little ones. I didn't want to believe what the Prime was telling me. I saw your memorial in the garden, it was well made."

"Thank you. They deserved that much," Starscream said quietly. "I don't know most of their designations, but I do know many for you to pass on to their kin. It's safe to assume that their trines were murdered as well if they traveled together." He looked at the Winglord. "Did you denounce any of your creations?"

"No," Thundercracker said, tilting his helm. "Why?"

"Because my flock Order did. They won't want to see me, and I definitely don't want to see them again," Starscream shrugged. "My carrier may want to, but he'd never cross his Order for it."

"I know that if one of my creations acted as you did, no matter what, I would want to see him again." Thundercracker shrugged. "Even so, I can't force you back to Vos, but neither can I stop them from coming here, and I won't refrain from releasing the information. You're on a missing list, you know. They filed after not hearing from you."

"I didn't know," Starscream admitted with real surprise in the flare of his wings and a serious bit of confusion. "I don't know why they ... no, I do know," he shrugged it off with a brief flare of pain-betrayal-anger. "How do you want the designations I have? I'm assuming you want the remains for a proper funeral."

"If you have a list of some sort. The Prime's given me what he's managed to collect from video records. I was hoping to take their chambers back to Vos to be returned to their flocks if possible, or during a public ceremony." Thundercracker regarded him. "Why would they have filed, if not out of concern?"

"The only reason they could have expected to hear from me was if they expected me to beg for help to come back," Starscream tried to keep the anger in check, and did for the most part. "Or they were just trying to make a point, claiming I was missing when they knew full well I was never coming back. To cause trouble for me, like they always did once they knew I was a Vision. All my ambitions were great when everyone thought I was an Order. One orn this stupid thing turns on and suddenly I'm supposed to give it all up to be a processor-dead breeder like the rest of them."

Thundercracker snorted. "You have little understanding of what a Vision is," he said. "I can see why you left."

"Even your Vision knows I'm not allowed to follow my dreams. He admitted it. They may hate me for my wings here, but at least a few are willing to give a Seeker a chance. On Vos, I have none and never will," Starscream hissed before catching himself and shoving all the negative emotions away when he teeked a flare of distress from Stratus. All his attention immediately went to his creation. "Shu, it's all right. Nothing for you to worry about. I escaped. It's all okay."

Thundercracker touched the glass with a quiet smile. "I will be here for a while longer, at least until this one is feeling much better. I want to see you out of that tank and in the air, little one," he commanded as he stood before looking at Starscream. "Get your petition in, or they go to their rightful Orders."

"Deny my petition and no one with wings will see them again," Starscream reminded him just as evenly. His optics remained on the Winglord as Thundercracker left, then he sighed and rested his helm against the cool glass. "No one is going to take you away from me. Not after all I've suffered to protect you."

* * *

Thundercracker was weary from the flight to Cybertron, intensive talks with the Prime and the periodic bursts of distress from his trine and the youth who genuinely believed he'd been condemned for what he was and banished from his flock. It was everything that should never happen to a Seeker. Though everything, there was always the flock. It kept society together.

Farcry was no more happy about the entire situation, and seemed to be taking it almost personally that another Vision had felt rejected to the point of living with _grounders._ After meeting the Vision in question, Thundercracker could understand why he'd left, and he knew that the Seekers who _did_ leave Vos all left under similar circumstances. 

"Even if he _is_ abrasive," Farcry was saying. "That's _no_ reason for a flock Order to push him out."

"You heard him. It had nothing to do with _him_ and everything with him being a Vision and not an Order," Skywarp piped up, delighted to have something to add to such an intellectual conversation. "It's messed up to deny a final vorn of education because of that."

"But it isn't anyone else's place to dictate how an Order runs their flock, unless they are being abusive," Thundercracker said. "If there is discord, the best solution is for one to leave. That happened. It's done and settled."

"It doesn't make it any less messed up," Skywarp countered. "Just cause it's the glitch's right doesn't make it _right_."

"Yes it happened. It's settled," Farcry said softly, his distress no less intense for the statement from his Order. "How many Visions and eggs were murdered on this world because _we_ failed to see to their needs? Not their flock Orders, but _us_. We should have been there for him, for all of them, when they had no other flock."

Thundercracker sighed. "What are _we_ supposed to do about it, open our private flock to every flier in need?" 

"If we must," Farcry said simply. 

Thundercracker looked at him. "Our eyrie is not that big." 

"Then make it bigger, my darling," his Vision trilled to him. 

"And what would we do with one like Starscream, who won't listen to any Order, no matter how reasonable?"

Farcry smiled sweetly at him. "We teach him what his flock failed to. To trust. All that a Vision can be. Let him meet Orders who are reasonable and would support him. Introduce him to those who know how to handle a fierce Vision without trying to break their will. The military is full of them."

"Mm." Thundercracker gave his Vision a fond smile. "You just miss having creations about and have started looking for strays to take in."

Rich red optics glittered and the sleek cream frame crawled closer to rub against Thundercracker's seductively. "Perhaps I am."

"I said strays, not hatchlings," Thundercracker chuckled as his hands came to rest on Farcry's hips. Skywarp drew against them, wings flared out between his trine and the entrance to their suite. Thundercracker turned to kiss him, then sighed. Farcry and Skywarp trilled in concern and he shook his head. "I should have come down here sooner. We could have saved more of them. We always suspected. We didn't protect them-- _I_ didn't protect them from these monsters."

"Love, my Order, the Migration happened because we could not fight them," Farcry nuzzled him. "Yes, we are stronger, but so are they. We should have intervened, but not in war. If Seekers did not go to Cybertron, they would not be captured. We failed, but it was a failure to keep them home."

Thundercracker rubbed his Vision's back. "You're right, of course." 

"And now we know more about the thieves who come to Vos," Skywarp said with a vicious purr. "We can hunt them."

"And we will, with the Prime's blessing no less," Thundercracker grinned back at his Action and pulled Skywarp into a hard kiss. "I believe I have a new favorite sport. One that will begin with the thieves Prime has agreed to hand over."

"I can't wait," Skywarp said with a delighted shiver through his wings. 

Farcry leaned over Thundercracker to give his Action an indulgent kiss before looking to the Order with a requesting trill. 

Thundercracker looked at him, then sighed. "All right, I'll have someone check out that flock Order. Will that make you feel better?"

"Yes," Farcry said, and nuzzled affectionately while stroking Thundercracker's wings. "Thank you, my Order."

"Anything for my Vision," Thundercracker said, before pulling him into a soft kiss. It had been a very long decaorn, and it wasn't likely that the next ones would be any easier. Time to relax with his trine was to be treasured. After a few kliks, he guided Farcry's mouth away from his and against Skywarp's, and settled in to watch them kiss above him.


	18. Fate of the Hatchlings

::Prime, incoming screechy with hatchling. No clue why.:: Jazz's voice interrupted one of the hundreds of lines of processing Optimus Prime was using to hash out the treaty and legal details with Vos. They'd agreed to approach this as if no previous treaties or interactions of importance had happened. It gave them both a clean slate, and it gave Optimus greater freedom to distance himself from the evils of his predecessors.

::Understood,:: he said, leaping up and already comming Ratchet as the door burst open. Starscream rushed straight over to him, and then shoved a hatchling into his hands. 

"Look look _look!_ "

Optimus looked, trying to find what was wrong with a still slightly bleary and decidedly confused Fyat, but saw nothing. Her color was a bit off, but....

"Her armor's coming in!" Farcry's delighted chirr was far more than just polite as he ran up, beaming and fluttering his wings with pride-delight towards Starscream. "Oh, you'll be able to take her flying in a few orns!"

"I know!" Starscream cheered, just as excited as he beamed at his creation with the other Vision.

"REPORT!" Ratchet roared as he burst in.

"My apologies. It seems Starscream was so excited to show me the wonderful news that he forgot to say why he was rushing here," Optimus soothed the medic, who went from business-panic to delighted-intrigued immediately.

"Really? What does it look like? How does it _happen?_ " He leaned in to peer at her. 

"When a happy trine love each other very much..." Starscream said dryly, rolling his optics. "Do I look like a medic to you?"

With all the excitement, Fyat sat in Optimus's cupped hands and looked about calmly, curious about all the fuss and all the new faces and wings. She chirped and stretched, her tiny wing-nubs arching back in a full circle before she settled again.

"Fly soon?" she focused on Starscream as she ignored the familiar sensation of Ratchet's scans.

"Yes," Starscream trilled to her. "Look, I think there's some red there, and maybe blue. She's going to be _gorgeous,_ " he crowed.

"Of course she will be," Optimus smiled at his mate. "She is yours."

Skywarp appeared next to them with a snort. "Sentimental grounders." 

Farcry tried to choke back his sudden laugh. "I'm sorry, what? Have you forgotten the preening and swooning and adoring over every single cream colored hatchling?" 

"That was different," Skywarp said loftily, before cooing at Fyat. "You'll get a proper flying around soon, little one."

She grinned up at the Seeker she'd done plenty of hissing at over the last metacycle and preened at the attention. Optimus could only laugh. "Oh yes, she is definitely all yours. Though _try_ to give me some notice before you take her up. I want to be there to watch, and when you land."

"We all want to fly with you for their first time," Farcry trilled, hopeful and asking for invitation despite his rank.

"As a flock should," Thundercracker said, standing and walking over. "May I?" he asked, holding his hands out for the hatchling, but clearly requesting it of Starscream.

There was a hesitation, though it seemed more shock, then the creator flicked his wings in permission and Optimus obediently shifted his hands so Fyat could jump from his to the blue Seeker's. As soon as she landed, tiny fingers were everywhere and she sniffed and teeked and was soon crawling up one arm.

Thundercracker chuckled. "So it isn't just your carrier," he said as she sat herself firmly on top of his helm and peered around at the entire room.

"Like being tall," she chirped happily, looking down at all of the other Seekers with a pleased expression. 

"I hope you're an Order," Thundercracker told her.

"It won't matter," Starscream said firmly. "I won't punish her for what she can't control."

"I'll be _fast_ ," Fyat interrupted the building tension with a pronouncement that drew all attention back to her.

"She has _so much_ of you in her," Optimus chuckled as he took the moment to stand next to Starscream and run his hand along his back. "She'll be a force to be reckoned with soon."

"She will," Starscream said proudly. He reached up to stroke a finger down her back, brushing over the nubs. "She'll have stunning..." He trailed off, and then his field went sour and he turned and fled the room. 

Fyat shrieked in alarm and the other Seekers looked like they would start after before the Prime moved in front of them, arms held out. "Let him go." He effortlessly caught Fyat when she leapt from Thundercracker's helm to go after.

"What was that?" Skywarp demanded, not happy at being blocked from going after a distressed Vision, flock or not. After a hard look from Thundercracker, he winced, then nodded. "I'll take her to the nest," he offered, extending his hands for the hatchling. Optimus's field flared harder than was polite, but when it settled back to normal he carefully handed the squirming, biting hatchling to the black Seeker.

"Memories take over sometimes," Optimus said, glossing over the details.

Farcry nodded in understanding when Skywarp disappeared. "Does he need anything we can get for him? Should someone check on him?"

"He's probably purging his tanks, and would rather deactivate than be seen like this," Optimus said firmly. "He'll come out when he's ready and not before. He knows the hatchlings are being watched while he pulls himself together."

"Very well," Thundercracker called attention back to himself. "Back to work."

* * *

Starscream accepted his squirming hatchling and lifted her up, looking at her sternly. "If you break anything in my cockpit, we will have to land," he warned her. 

"I know," she said, unable to stay still out of sheer excitement. "Fly now." 

He couldn't help but smile, remembering his own eagerness. "Yes, we fly now." With a final look to check that Optimus had solid control of the other three, two of whom would take their first flight within orns as well, he lifted off slowly in root mode to allow her to feel the power of a frame in flight. Above him dozens circled and danced, likely the entire contingent that had come with the Winglord, but his entire focus was on ensuring that his little one's first flight didn't become her last. He knew her well enough to understand that she wouldn't hesitate to jump if the notion took her.

When he was above the garden walls he hovered for several long kliks, allowing Fyat to feel and see what would soon be her domain.

She squealed with delight when she looked down at her sire from above, and the rest of the ground-bound mecha. Optimus waved to her and she clapped her hands together joyfully. "So small!" she exclaimed when Starscream stopped his ascent and let her get a really good look around at the gardens below. She shrieked gleefully when she saw the fountain, pointing. Her frame contorted from the sheer amount of elation flooding every wire and she twisted in Starscream's hands. "I see it!"

"Yes," Starscream said with a smile, his own frame struggling not to quiver in the joy flooding him at her reaction. "You are a true Seeker. A master of the skies. All the ground-bound ones are below us as they should be."

"Yes," she said proudly, looking at her carrier with shining, admiration-filled red optics. "All of them. Now go fast!"

Starscream chuckled and slid the canopy of his cockpit open. "Hold onto the seat. It'll move as I transform."

"Will," she chirped and jumped into his cockpit to grip the chair tightly.

Starscream locked the canopy down and let her feel the true rumble and power of full flight engines coming online. "Are you ready?" he teased. 

"Yes!" 

"Are you _reeealllly_ ready?" 

" _Ye-eeesss!_ " she whined, squirming. 

"I don't think I believe you..." 

"Pleeeeease!" 

Starscream chuckled. "Well all right," he said, and then purred, "Hang on tight, little one," transformed, and pushed his thrusters to full power and fired his afterburners, shooting straight up into the sky. 

This was bliss any orn, to feel the wind, cold and sky around him, parting at his will. It was difficult to tell at times whether his teek or hers was more ecstatic, but hers was wrought with _new_ and his was saturated deeply with _peace_.

As he sailed downward, the flock of warriors swirled around him. Yes, they were guards, but they were not there to protect him. They were celebrating with him one of the most important moments in a hatchling's existence. It felt incredible to be around so many who cheered for him in the swirling mass of wings above the Prime's palace. But the best part, the very _best_ part, was hearing Fyat's unending joy. It overwhelmed her to the point of being unable to speak, and instead just trilled and screeched and vocalized all the tumultuous bliss in her spark.

Starscream had no idea how long he was flying, but when the order to land came with gentle harmonics of joy and care, he didn't resist it. Fyat was still vibrating, but her energy level was getting low. He'd have to be careful when she began to fly that she didn't overexert herself as he often had. Here there would be few fliers to help her home, and not everyone she met on the ground would be safe.

He transformed as he landed and opened his cockpit. Fyat tumbled out, laughing and spinning as she did before she pounced on him and climbed up to his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. Starscream nuzzled back and then found himself holding a recharging hatchling and smiled, scooping her up and heading back to Optimus, accepting the touches on his wings from his fellow Seekers and the cube of jet grade from his mate.

"I'll never tire of watching you fly, but that was special," Optimus rumbled his pleasure at the contentment flooding the area around his mate. "I know what she'll be begging you to do every moment until she can fly herself."

Starscream smirked in agreement, then traded Optimus for the two squirming hatchlings he was holding and sat next to Stratus's portable incubator, putting his hand on the glass. Stratus nuzzled against his palm from the other side, chirping. 

"You'll all get to go soon," Starscream promised them, humming contentedly as he settled against Optimus's chest to relax.

* * *

The nine Seekers approaching Cybertron were very different from the first group, not just in their small number and odd flying arrangement with one trine flying a bit separate from the other two, but also in their lighter builds and less skilled flying. Even at a distance it was obvious this group were not warriors, though no grounder could have found the faults in their flight, the trine that rose up to greet them and guide them down could have.

Starscream watched from a window, his wings vibrating with agitation and anger. "They didn't need to come here!" he screeched.

"As I understand, the two flock leaders do," Optimus tried to soothe him by rubbing his wings as the three healthy hatchlings played in the nest behind them. "Thundercracker expects to hear from them before granting you custody."

"They're called Orders, not leaders," Starscream snapped. "And that's more than two of them anyway! And if it's who I think it is I'm going to slag Thundercracker."

"Your creator trine is the additional one, no doubt. Surely you could not have expected them to remain behind once your flock Order knew what happened, or at least the results of it," Optimus tried to remain rational, even knowing there was little point.

"I don't see _why_ they would come," Starscream said, glaring at the sky. "Never cared anyway. Probably just trying to look good or something. Maybe Sharpwind made them come." 

"Or perhaps they wish to see their grand-creations, even if you don't believe they care about you," Optimus leaned in to kiss Starscream's neck as his fingers turned seductive. "It will be several breems before I need to greet them. Care to burn off some energy?"

Starscream glanced back at Fyat, Pathfinder, and Farsight, then tipped his helm to look up at his mate. "You think you can do something with me in several _breems?_ "

"Not enough to sate either of us, but at least one hard overload," Optimus rumbled and pinned Starscream against the window and allowed his spike to pressurize between them, then shifted so it rubbed between Starscream's legs. "You know you enjoy a good overload even if you can still walk afterwards."

"I know you're spending an awful lot of time talking right now," Starscream drawled, smirking as he slid his valve cover back.

Optimus just chuckled and lifted him up in a blatant display of strength before impaling the Seeker on his thick, ornate shaft in one swift motion. He didn't even wait before moving Starscream as much as himself to draw out and slam back in.

" _Ha._ " Starscream's helm tilted up and his back arched, wings raising up. One of Optimus's hands came to rest lightly on his throat, ready to move up to his mouth when it would be needed. For now he simply pinned him and drove into him, relishing the pleasure surging through both their frames at the tight, full, slick heat and slide of spike through valve.

"Don't get nearly enough of this," Optimus moaned softly against Starscream's audial. "Never get enough of you."

"You've got--mmm--a few more centuries before I get to be your undivided concubine," Starscream purred back to him. "Or whatever it's called."

"Mate," Optimus grunted into the next thrust. "Or consort. You're far more than a concubine could be."

" _Consort,_ " that's the one I keep hearing," Starscream gasped. "Prime's Consort, or something." His wings trembled. "Sounds good."

"Yes," Optimus groaned as he gave up on trying to talk in favor of driving into his lover deep and hard. Starscream muffled his moaning by biting down on his lip and rocked, helm going back to Optimus's chest. He gripped the Prime's thighs, panting and concentrating on overloading as quickly as he could. " _Gonna--_ " he finally gasped, optics flickering. Two fingers pressed into his mouth to muffle the keening scream, but nothing muffled the chassis-deep roar of Optimus's overload.

The powerful surge of crackling transfluid against sensors primed for it sent Starscream into a second peak just as the first began to fade. His frame arched and strained, wings trembling, before the last _crack_ of hard static snapped into the air and he slumped, groaning as Optimus slid his fingers out. "Breem and a half, not bad," he chuckled, panting.

"Thank you," Optimus chuckled as he pulled out and carefully set Starscream on his pedes. "We have enough time for a quick clean-up, and then it seems I have creators to meet."

"What?" Starscream whirled, optics going wide. "No. No, absolutely not. There is no reason for you to meet them, or for them to meet you. None."

"Starscream, yes, I do need to meet them," Optimus said firmly as he began to wipe his lover clean. "As Prime and the one giving the hatchlings sanctuary if you do not wish them to know we are mates. Though the hatchlings are likely to break that news to them. I am to be there for the hearing about the hatchling's fate."

Starscream groaned, wings dipping. "I don't care if _they_ meet _you_ ... I don't want _you_ to meet _them_." 

Optimus paused and looked up. "That makes no sense, Starscream."

Starscream glared at him, arms crossed over his cockpit and wings set petulantly. "It will make sense when you meet them."

Optimus gave him a curious look but shrugged and finished the cleanup. "Do you wish to stay here until someone demands to see the hatchlings?"

"Who wants to see us?" Fyat chirped curiously from behind him. Starscream whistled-clicked to her and she came running around Optimus to grab his lowered hand and climb up, making her way to his helm. 

"More Seekers," Starscream told her as she got onto his shoulder.

"Why?" 

"Because..." Starscream searched for an answer, then decided on the truth. "Because where I came from, the law is different, and it says you don't belong to me. So the Seekers you would belong to if we were there are here to take you, but I'm not going to let them."

She froze while making her nest on his helm, too startled by the concept being presented to even react at first. Then a deep, deadly growl rumbled up from her tiny frame. "I'll hurt them first. No one takes us away."

"Let's try the nice way first," Optimus tried not to chuckle at her response. It was just too cute when coming from something so small and harmless. "The Winglord is going to listen to why you should go and why you should stay. If he agrees for you to stay there will be no reason to hurt anyone." He looked down when he felt Farsight and Pathfinder near his leg and held out a hand to lift them, and nuzzled both. "I have to go. I'll call when you're needed. You'll be here?" 

Starscream accepted the other two hatchlings and looked at them. "Let's go see if Stratus would like some company, mm?" he said, prompting excited chirps of agreement from all three. He looked up at Optimus. "We'll be here or in medbay."

"All right." Optimus leaned in for a kiss, then pet each of the hatchlings, and made his way out of the nest. 

* * *

Optimus strolled into the rebuilt crystal garden that had become the default place for Seeker dignitaries to land and stood, relaxed in stance, and simply enjoyed watching those who were airborne fly. Even though it wasn't the incredible patterns that Starscream was sometimes partial to, it was an incredible sight to the grounder. He continued to watch as Thundercracker and his trinemates led the three additional trines in for a smooth landing that made his gaze lock onto one of the secondary mecha, the Action, he believed, of the lowest-ranked trine. Or at least the trine farthest back. The rich red and blue Seeker with crimson optics was larger than Starscream by a bit, but there was no mistaking the relation.

He watched for a little longer as they organized themselves and looked around, getting their bearings, and then started to follow Thundercracker over to him. The red and blue one stood in the Action's position, he was fairly sure. Starscream had been trying to teach him. 

"Optimus, Prime of Cybertron, this is Sharpwind, flock Order of three of the hatchlings you are protecting. Cloudbank is the flock Order of the sick one. Ripwing is trine Order of Starscream's creation trine," Thundercracker introduced the leaders, then the other six newcomers.

"Welcome to Cybertron," Optimus greeted them politely.

Sharpwind flicked his wings dismissively. "Where are the hatchlings? I'd like to get this business over with as soon as possible and return them home." 

"I-is Starscream ... does he know we're here?" Chiindii asked, the Vision of Starscream's creation trine. "I'm sure he'll be mortified, but we couldn't stay behind, not after..." 

"He is with his hatchlings and their sibling in the medbay," Optimus motioned the group to follow. "Yes, Starscream saw you flying in. Though mortified is not the description I'd give his reaction, you are correct that he was not pleased."

"He wouldn't be," Ripwing said. "Never was. Ever had creations of your own, Optimus? Can I call you Optimus? Or whatever it is you grounders do. Be glad you didn't have one like Starscream, now _he_ was a handful."

"I have been raising all four as my own since Starscream arrived, still egg-heavy. The femme, Fyat, is a great deal like her carrier. Her brothers are calmer," Optimus told him as they walked. "Yes, you may call me Optimus."

"Are we going to medbay?" Sharpwind asked pointedly. "I'd like to take those hatchlings into possession as soon as possible."

"Yes, we are going to medbay, but the hatchlings will remain in my custody until the hearing is over. Then they may leave with the Seekers that Thundercracker decides to grant custody to," Optimus told him firmly, the deep rumble of his engine close enough to a threat to remind them all that he considered the four _his_ creations.

Sharpwind gave him a cold look.

"You know, this is a beautiful garden," Chiindii chimed up suddenly. "I love the colors." 

"He's a professional decorator," Ripwing said proudly. "Decorate anything you like. Decorate your home. Decorate your helm. Nice lookin' helm there, good shine." 

"The garden is beautiful," Optimus agreed smoothly. "It is the hatchling's favorite place, with the possible exception of the hot oil pool." He held his arm out to gesture them into the corridor.

"I didn't see a nest as I was flying in," Sharpwind said.

"It was built inside for greater protection," Optimus told him.

Sharpwind's wings shot up and he rounded on Thundercracker. "And you haven't declared custody yet? They're being raised _inside?_ "

"Having spoken with the Vision, the hatchlings, and having seen the nest through my trine, I have doubts that taking them away from Starscream is the correct course of action," Thundercracker gave a warning rumble to remind the Order of his place. "While less than optimal, the reasons for it were justified."

"They _recharge_ inside," Optimus added smoothly. "They spend most of the orn in the garden when they are not with their sibling. Once I am sure it is safe, the nest will be rebuilt in a better place for them."

"You don't _rebuild_ a nest," Sharpwind scoffed. 

"Oh, but if you did I could help!" Chiindii said. "And with so much potential out there! Oh, I could make it simply marvelous!" 

"I doubt Starscream wants your help," Ripwing chuckled. "Never met a more impertinent Vision in all my life."

"You are welcome to offer, though I expect Ripwing is correct about his acceptance," Optimus said gently, still at a complete loss why Starscream didn't want him to meet these three mecha. "What did you expect of a mecha raised to be an Order?" he challenged lightly.

"He wasn't raised to be an Order," Longjump said quietly, the first time he'd spoken. "He was raised to be whatever he would be. As all are." 

"Is it true that he knew Cirrus?" Cloudbank asked suddenly before Optimus could answer, and the grief in his voice and wings helped remind the grounder that this trine was learning of their creation's death, not his rescue. "Before..."

"Yes. They were held together," Optimus said quietly. "I believe they became very close. Starscream has treated Stratus as his own."

"We don't want the hatchling," Cloudbank said quickly. "Unless Starscream wants to give him up, but it doesn't sound like ... But we'd like to meet him and know him. Hearing about Cirrus..."

"I cannot speak for Starscream, but you will always be welcome to visit him while he is my charge," Optimus extended the offer, not wanting to ask why they didn't want the sparkling. "We will care for him."

Cloudbank nodded, and the group continued in silence until they reached medbay. The door opened, and the piercing, chagrined screech came a moment later. 

"What is this, an _ambush?_ " Starscream shrieked. 

"Oh, _Star!_ " Chiindii cried and rushed forward, grabbing his creation in a hug. "Oh, sweetspark! I'm so glad you're all right, I worried every moment!"

"Get away from me, let go!" Starscream shrieked even louder. It was enough to draw Fyat forward to claw at the attacker's face and her healthy brothers attacked and climbed up Chiindii, intent on protecting their creator.

"Fyat, stop," Optimus barked at her while he moved to pull the other two off. Not too surprising, she only hissed at him and clawed Chiindii again while Starscream tried to push him away.

Chiindii just masterfully got the hatchling in his hands and held her out at arm's length, ignoring the way she twisted to gnaw at him. "Ohh, she's just like you!" he cooed. 

"And you'll traumatize her too," Starscream snapped, and grudgingly held still while Longjump and Ripwing hugged him. Longjump's embrace lasted longer, and Starscream stiffened and evaded when the Action tried to turn his head towards him. 

"Remember when he used to scratch like that?" Chiindii provided the welcome distraction. "Oh, he used to scratch just like that! Oh, Star, I can't get over how beautiful she is, and just like you! Didn't he used to scratch just like that? Didn't he? Who has sharp claws, who has sharp claws? You do, yes you! Just like that, didn't he?" The excited Vision babbled on to the hatchling, who had stopped fighting entirely to stare at him disbelievingly. 

"Just like that," Ripwing chuckled. He nudged Chiindii and winked. "And he still does, too, am I right?" 

"Oh for the _love_ ," Starscream groaned as he took Pathfinder and Farsight from Optimus, who was giving the four of them a rather curious look.

"Yes. Fyat is like Starscream," the hatchling hissed at him. "Fyat is _Starscream's_ creation and Starscream _does not like you_."

"Oh, hush now, that's just silly," Chiindii said, and tapped her tiny nose. Fyat hissed with insult, Starscream groaned again, and Ripwing chuckled deeply. 

While the action was focused on Starscream and three very unhappy hatchlings, Cloudbank and his trine slipped further back to where Stratus was in his pod. Optimus followed them over. 

"What ... what happened to him?" Nuage, the Vision, asked, touching his fingers to the outside of the incubator and its recharging contents. "Didn't you say he was older than the others? He's so small..."

"His carrier was in very bad shape, already dying, when his egg was formed," Espera said as he walked up. "I'm Espera, his primary care medic. It's a miracle that he survived as long as he did. His chances of surviving to adulthood are very good now, though he'll never be very large or strong."

Nuage gave a quiet cry, his wings shuddering, and he turned against his Action's chest. 

"This is all ... very hard, for us, you understand," Asaltar murmured as he held Nuage's frame and stroked his back, trying to soothe his Vision while he was just as upset.

"Of course, however we can help, please let us know," Optimus said, but the words were drowned out by Starscream's sudden snarl. 

" _You._ " He zeroed in on Sharpwind, wings going up. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"My duty, claiming the creations of a flock Vision," Sharpwind answered with a scowl. "I see your experiences have made you no more thankful for your flock than you were when you left."

"You _pushed_ me out!" Starscream shouted, and Fyat hissed at the older Vision holding her. "You made that eyrie _stifling_ , I was _one_ vorn away from my Sixth Degree you selfish, stuck-up glitch! And _you!_ " He turned his glare on his creator trine. "Not one of you fought him over it! How dare you come down here and pretend like it's because you were worried! You're just following along and here to steal _my_ hatchlings! Well you can't have them, they're mine! _I_ bled for them, _I_ fought for them, _I_ cared for them, and I'm keeping them!" 

"Dear, we're flock, we're you're creators. We came because we were worried about _you_ ," Chiindii trilled at him but didn't resist when he snatched Fyat back and put her on his shoulder. Her tiny wing-nubs rustled in what would be a display of protective anger before she turned her helm to nuzzle her creator and chirred softly at him while her brothers chirped at his upset.

Longjump sighed. "I know you disagree with the Order's choices, but that is his right. You are a Vision. You should be home and _happy_ with a trine to raise your hatchlings with."

"Get away from me," Starscream hissed. "If you're here to take me back you should just leave now. And why do you _suddenly_ care if I'm there or not? You didn't care when I left! All you want are the hatchlings!"

"That's not true!" Chiindii denied with flicking wings, his voice pitching up in an indicator of where Starscream's vocalizer came from. "You were an adult. We didn't have a right to stop you from leaving."

"Starscream, you have no trine, no flock and four hatchlings you have no knowledge of how to care for," Sharpwind began, only to have Starscream cut him off.

"I have a _mate_ , I have this entire community, and oh look, I have four healthy hatchlings, even though one should have died according to his medic," he snapped. 

"You're still just a hatchling yourself," Sharpwind scoffed. "How are you ready to take care of your own?" 

"I figured something out, obviously," Starscream said icily as he turned away.

"Sharpwind bad," Fyat hissed, glaring at the flock leader and lifting tiny wing nubs in threat. "Mean to creator. Not fit to lead."

"I suggest we all go to our quarters," Thundercracker spoke up suddenly from the entry, and the ground rumbled beneath them as he did. "It has been a long journey, and I think everyone could benefit from some cooling off. I believe it was a mistake to introduce the hatchlings into the mix so soon." He held up a hand to still the protests from Cloudbank and his trine. "You may stay. Sharpwind, Ripwing, please follow me." 

They both canted their respect to the Winglord and turned to follow, but Chiindii first rushed to Starscream and wrapped him in a hug. "I really was worried, I really did miss you," he said. "I know you won't believe it yet but I promise I love you, and I support you." When he finished, he followed his trine out, leaving a shocked Starscream staring after him. 

"I know you have a lot going on..." Nuage said softly from behind, startling him. He turned around to see the Vision standing there, looking pleadingly at him. "But if you have time, if it isn't asking too much, can you tell us about Cirrus? What happened to him?" 

Starscream opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Memories, the way it felt to have a trine bond break, tearing out Torrent's spark, tearing open Cirrus's frame--

Optimus's hand on his wing steadied him and Starscream snapped out of the memories before it could turn into a full flashback. The Prime held his arms out for Pathfinder and Farsight, concern in his field. 

Starscream obediently handed the hatchlings over. When he was teetering like this, it was best that he wasn't holding them. Fyat hissed and swiped at Optimus when tried to lift her, then hunckered down onto Starscream's helm and began petting her carrier to help ease his distress. 

Optimus let her be and soon the two larger hatchlings were on his shoulders and a large blue hand was on Starscream's back, supportive and ready to respond to anything. 

When he felt calmer, Starscream looked back to Nuage, who was waiting with anxious anticipation. Very slowly, he nodded. "Yes, I could tell you about him. I'm in here with Stratus all the time, that would be a good time to talk. Not now." 

"But..." 

"Later," Optimus said gently but firmly. "When you are ready to recharge, just leave the room. Someone will be waiting to show you to the guest quarters you are welcome to use, or to the garden so you can fly up to the ship. I will ensure it is one who understands Vosian, even if they can not speak it well."

"Thank you," Cloudbank said, barely able to hold back the emotion from his wings. "If it helps, we really don't want to take Stratus from you. You've cared for him, you love him, we just want to be able to be part of his life. He was part of Cirrus." 

Starscream nodded, and accepted the hug from Nuage before he said his farewells to Stratus, who cried out longingly to be taken with him, arms held up. 

"Soon, little one," Starscream promised. "Right now these Seekers would like to spend some time with you. They're good, I promise." 

"They are," Fyat added knowingly for her brother. "I can tell." 

Stratus glanced dubiously between Starscream and the new trine, then to his sister, then looked hesitantly up at Nuage and chirped a greeting. 

"Come," Optimus murmured, guiding his reluctant mate out into the hall. "I'm sorry I let them come here so soon. I was only thinking of Stratus."

"I ... know," Starscream said as close to a thank you as he could when he was feeling so threatened. By the time they reached the Residence proper, he was leaning against the big mech.

"Let's visit the washrack before we return to the nest," Optimus suggested with a soft nuzzle, and to three very eager chirps.

Starscream nodded and they headed that way, first dropping the hatchlings off in the pool before slipping into one of the showers. Optimus stood with his arms wrapped around Starscream. 

"They're awful, I _told_ you," Starscream said.

"They aren't that bad," Optimus nuzzled him as he began to wash Starscream's frame with gentle, caressing touches. "The flock Order has an attitude, but your creators seem nice enough."

"Did you even _see_ the way Chiindii was talking to Fyat?" Starscream hissed, not relaxing in the slightest. "That was _mortifying._ "

"It was adorable," Optimus chuckled. "Though I can understand why you both hate it. He's just not your type."

"It's more than them just not being right for me. They _didn't stand up for me,_ " Starscream snarled. "Longjump was the worst, always happy to help me with something and then as soon as I'm an adult and I start broadcasting as a _Vision_ it was like he didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

Optimus's good humor vanished. "I'm sorry they were like that. It's not right for a creator to reject their creation like that, even a grounder knows that. These four will never face that."

"They won't," Starscream agreed vehemently. "It's all just stupid coding anyway. And sure, maybe _most_ Visions want to be pathetic gooey egg-hatchers and _most_ Actions want to be brutes and _most_ Orders like to be bossy know-it-alls, but that doesn't mean they _all_ have to be. And did they have to be so _embarrassing,_ " he groaned.

Optimus wrapped his arms around his mate and drew him close. "I know. I understand being meant for something society says you are not."

"I ... you mean being Prime?" Starscream asked. 

"Yes," Optimus nuzzled him. "I was happy as an archivist. My spark is well-suited to both frame and duties I had. I still do not understand why I was chosen to become Prime, and I often wish I had not been. It is my duty however, so I do my best."

"You do amazing," Starscream said. "Better than all the Primes before you." He started rubbing over Optimus's frame, helping him wash. "Just a decaorn or two, then they'll be gone, then life can return to normal. Then no more embarrassing creators, no awful possessive Orders trying to take them away."

"Agreed," Optimus groaned in pleasure at the attention. "I am definitely looking forward to having fewer Seekers and far more time to devote to my mate and creations."

"Agreed on all counts," Starscream said firmly, and they settled into their shower. 

* * *

"And _why_ would I do that?" Thundercracker asked, highlighting a section of the proposed treaty he was discussing with Optimus. "No one will agree to that. I do have to get this through a council, you know." 

"It's a gesture of good faith," Optimus said. "One that we would return." He pointed to another section. "If our citizens do not fear traveling to Vos, perhaps we can learn more about each other. We're making Cybertron safe for fliers, Vos can be safe for grounders."

"Vos will be _boring_ for grounders," Thundercracker said with a chuckle. "They won't be able to get anywhere without wings."

"That is a problem for visitors to figure out, and quite possibly a way for some Seekers to earn extra credits," Optimus suggested. "Surely there are a few who struggle to make ends meet?"

"Not like I've seen here," Thundercracker said. "Though there are plenty that would like to make more. I will _tentatively_ propose this, but with additional restrictions on visitors. They must pass our security, and be able to identify themselves at all times to any flier who asks, regardless of age, position, or flock. The thieves do not keep themselves only to Cybertron, and if a grounder can blend in, it will be harder to find."

"Given the history, I find that reasonable," Optimus nodded. "I might even be able to convince the Senate I have to deal with to accept that all visitors have trackers on them. Both grounders that visit Vos and flyers that visit Cybertron. For those in Vos, it means you could always know where they are, and if they are somewhere they shouldn't be. For Seekers here, it would be voluntary, but I would encourage it as it would make it much more difficult for anyone to botnap one undetected."

"So long as it is voluntary, and information that does not go beyond either of our customs agencies or your Senate, if you can trust them. I don't want anyone gouging open a Vision to get rid of a tracker if they know to look for one."

"I don't trust them at all. I was thinking of restricting the details of it to Special Operations. I do trust their commanders, and they are the ones who would rescue any prisoners," Optimus said, then paused to take a comm. "Speaking of them, Whiplash has news that he says should not wait."

Thundercracker nodded as he set aside their work and looked up expectantly as the small dark shadow became visible. "So you are the one I have to thank for bringing some of our lost fliers back to us," he said.

"I organized it, yes," Whiplash inclined his helm respectfully. "There are many good agents to thank as well."

Thundercracker canted his wings briefly in response. "What news?" he asked. 

"We successfully raided the last breeding facility of the ring we were working. Two surviving Seekers, both with eggs, one guard and the owner are alive," Whiplash told them. "All organized egg breeding operations on Cybertron, to our knowledge, are gone."

"Excellent," Optimus rumbled with deep satisfaction in his field.

Thundercracker was on his pedes immediately. "Where are the survivors? What is their condition?"

"Shaken, traumatized by their imprisonment, but physically in good condition," Whiplash reported, already turning around and motioning the pair to follow. "We have them both in stasis to lessen their stress. With as many Seekers as we have here now, it seemed like a good idea to let them boot up with kin close by. It lessened the chance they'd panic at some point and be damaged during transport too."

"Yes, of course," Thundercracker said, hating how slow the walking pace forced him to go, now that he didn't know where he was going. "Do you know anything about them, designations, how long they've been inside?"

"Detail Orca," Whiplash reported, taking care to repeat it exactly as it had been said. "I'm not sure if it's a designation, two designations or gibberish. Neither were exactly chatty when we found them. I hope you can get them calm enough to talk in a way that makes sense, and you know Vosian and 'cant a lot better than I do."

Thundercracker nodded as he realized they were headed to the medbay where the hatchling was being cared for. "We will start searching for any known missing with similar designations," he said. "Farcry is coming, he will stay with them. A fellow Vision might be the most soothing, and my guards are to be allowed any access requested by the survivors."

"Agreed," Optimus said before Whiplash could reply, though he didn't get the impression the walking shadow was planning to object. "Are they in a private room?"

"Yes, and one with a locking door," Whiplash nodded. "It might feel like another cage, but it's better safe than sorry when it comes to rescued prisoners. Sometimes they freak out with too much open space around them. Once the doc's reasonably sure they won't panic, or you take full responsibility for them, the door can be left open if they want. It's for their protection, not to keep them in."

"Understood," Thundercracker said with a rumble. 

As they reached the medbay doors, they saw Farcry waiting for them outside. He greeted his Order, then the Prime, then Whiplash, before they all headed inside. 

Starscream was already there, lingering over near Stratus, but he stayed silent and waited where he was as Ratchet gestured for them to follow. 

"Physically, it isn't bad," the medic said. "I don't think the one had been there for very long, though the other shows signs of advanced frame aging despite the strength of his spark. I think he was in there longer."

"How is that likely to affect his lifespan and ability to carry again?" Thundercracker asked even as he was confirming arrangements for his flock's physician to fly in to assess the pair.

"I ... have no idea," Ratchet said. "I know some of the deactivated frames I examined showed similar signs of wear, but that's all I can really tell you. You'll have to ask a Seeker about the carrying bit, that wasn't in my handbook."

Thundercracker twitched his wings, honestly rather pleased that the grounder was honest about his limits. "A general medic from Vos will be flying in."

"He will be shown in when he arrives," Optimus agreed as Whiplash opened the door to reveal a carefully stripped room with only two flier-grade berths in it, set up on opposite sides. On one side was a black and white Seeker, on the other was a simple yellow color scheme with red highlights. Their finish was dull and listless, and Thundercracker knew signs of stress and depression when he saw it. Even in stasis, their wings spoke.

"Espera was looking them over, he might know more, too," Ratchet added. "Would you like to bring them out of stasis?"

"Yes," Thundercracker said firmly with Farcry at his wing as Skywarp teleported in with a small box in hand.

"Thought a taste of home might perk them up," the black and purple Seeker shrugged, earning a small smile from his Order.

The grounders hung back as Thundercracker and trine approached the black and white one and Ratchet initiated the boot sequence.

The field flared out first, startled, and frightened, and confused, before the optics came online and comprehension flooded back in. The gaze darted wildly, then latched onto Skywarp as his hand moved to his middle. His mouth opened silently and worked for a few moments, then he managed a raspy, "Wasn't a dream." 

"No," Thundercracker rumbled with regret. "It happened, though you are free and safe now. What is your designation, trine and flock so they may be told you are safe?"

"Orca, never trined, Windtwist," the Vision said in a bit of a daze, the entire answer wound into his designation glyph. 

"Rust stick?" Skywarp offered a familiar looking treat even as his wings remained flared and protective.

Orca reached for it in a motion that looked automatic, and Farcry trilled his approval, support, and encouragement. 

"I thought maybe I was still in there," Orca said, then looked around wildly. "Detail--!" He saw the yellow Seeker and _relief_ overtook him. "Oh, thank you, _thank you,_ " he sobbed, reaching for the other. As he sat, his wings took on the cant of looking at a trinemate. It was just as strong in his field as he accepted Skywarp's help to move over to the other berth, and without a word Thundercracker motioned to the grounders to move the berths together.

"He's still in stasis," Thundercracker said as Orca crawled against the yellow Seeker and pressed close. "We'll bring him out. Are you ... sure your trine-code didn't lock onto him?" he asked gently, no matter how much it disturbed him to watch one Vision react like he was trine to another Vision.

"It did," Starscream's voice came from the door. The white and red Seeker was leaning there, watching. "Kept you with two others, yeah?" 

Orca looked at him and nodded hesitantly. 

Starscream bowed his helm. "Yeah. Me too. We were a trine of three Visions. Stratus's carrier," he said, glancing at Thundercracker. "He was my trinemate. Don't you dare say a word about it, because you weren't there, and you don't understand." 

Red optics dimmed briefly before Thundercracker fixed his gaze on Starscream, his wings canted with grief for the Seeker's loss rather than what every Seeker knew he was also feeling. "Who was your third?"

"Torrent," Starscream said proudly, and lifted his helm back up without shame.

Thundercracker twitched his wings in acceptance and turned his gaze to Orca. His stance softened a bit more. "I will do what I can to ease the legal ramifications over what you could not control and explain it to your flocks. Who was your third?"

"Jedel," Orca said, and held tightly to Detail. "She ... she deactivated during her last separation. She fought it and held the eggs in and they twisted, I think ... they tore her open to get them before she was gone. She just wanted to keep them safe."

Behind them, Starscream's wings shuddered and Optimus quickly went to him, holding him and murmuring in a low, soothing tone.

Thundercracker's fists tightened as his rumble shook the area.

"Knock it off!" Ratchet stalked forward with a deep growl of his own, ready to grab a wing and wrench it if he wasn't obeyed. "No thunder inside my medbay."

"Have the ones responsible for this released to my Guard for transport," the Winglord growled before he stalked out. 

Orca stared after him. "...That was the Winglord." 

"Yes, dear spark," Farcry moved in quickly. "His anger is not directed at you, but at those who hurt you. You're safe now. Would you like us to bring Detail online?" 

Orca nodded and Farcry smiled warmly at him as he began the start-up sequence, with Skywarp standing protectively above all three. 

"Come," Optimus murmured, and drew Starscream away.

* * *

Starscream left Optimus and the hatchlings when he received Thundercracker's summons to join him in the garden. As he walked up, he could make out Sharpwind's silhouette and he immediately started growling. 

"What is this about?" he demanded as he came closer and recognized that Cirrus's flock Order trine was also there.

"The Winglord is going to _finally_ order you to hand over the hatchlings to me," Sharpwind looked over his shoulder and sneered at his most troublesome flock member.

"I am going to hand down my verdict on your petition for custody," Thundercracker spoke over Sharpwind.

Starscream tensed. "He won't understand them," he said. "They don't _want_ to go with him!"

"Silence, both of you. All have had their say to me," Thundercracker rumbled as Skywarp's wings flared up in threat to carry out the command by force if need be, though it wasn't needed. Even Starscream stilled his vocalizer, though not his wings. "I have listened to every statement given and interviewed those involved. My Vision and Action agree with my assessment that it will be best for the hatchlings to remain in the custody of Starscream and Optimus Prime. Cirrus's creation trine will have full visitation rights. Starscream's creation flock will have limited visitation rights. Starscream may determine where and how they are raised, with the exception of three times per vorn. They will be expected to attend the Right of the Storm Flight, The Honoring of Vos, and one metacycle every vorn of Starscream's choice will be spent within the borders of the city of Vos."

Starscream, Sharpwind, and Cloudbank all canted their respect to the Winglord's ruling, though Starscream's field was saturated with relief while Sharpwind's became bitter. 

"Do I have a choice of whether I accompany them to Vos, or who I choose to care for them for the metacycle, and may it overlap one of the others?" Starscream asked.

"Yes, you are always welcomed in Vos. You, and they, are still Seeker," Thundercracker said firmly. "You may choose which Order in your creation flock has custody if you are not there. Yes, the metacycle may be during one of the other celebrations."

"Thank you," Starscream said, then looked at Sharpwind. "You will never, _ever_ have custody over them. In case you're wondering."

"They will still be in my eyrie," Sharpwind pointed out.

"Sharpwind. Stop bating him. You are not improving your chances of having any contact with the hatchlings," Thundercracker rumbled with a deep sigh. He hated dealing with inner-flock strife. "Starscream. The purpose of the metacycle is so they know their kin and culture. Do not try to hamper that intent."

Thundercracker settled his wings and focused on Cloudbank. "You have voluntarily granted custody to Starscream in exchange for visitation rights. How extensive do you wish the legal protections of your right to know the hatchling be?"

"I just want to know that if we visit, we won't be turned away," Cloudbank said, then looked at Starscream. "And you're welcome in our eyrie, any time."

Thundercracker nodded and looked to Starscream.

"Agreed," the young Vision said easily and gave the mellow flock Order a small smile and twitch of thanks for not fighting him. "Prime's already given the order as far as the grounders are concerned. I agree with it."

"Then so it will be recorded," Thundercracker said firmly.

"Thank you, Honored Winglord," Starscream murmured, the words all but drowned out by Sharpwind's thrusters as the Order took off.

Thundercracker sighed but motioned his trine to follow him out. The legal side was dealt with. The social side of this spat wasn't his concern.

Cloudbank and Starscream lingered in silence for a long klik before Starscream gave the Order a pointed look. "Why didn't you want custody? Is there something I should know?" 

Cloudbank shook his head, wings dipping. "We all talked about it after we learned what had happened. We'd always hoped Cirrus would come home to us, but ... I don't think any of us believed it. There's a, a _bond_ ," the Order said, hands moving aimlessly, "That comes from hatching a seekerling. Something you have with Stratus. We didn't want to take another creation away from his home. Even if ... his home is this place." He looked around at the space clearly designed for grounders. "Cirrus and his trine were always interested in Cybertron. His Order was a cultural historian, and I think it rubbed off on the other two. They wanted to explore the distant roots, always saying that the grounders here now weren't like the ones back then, and..." His voice broke and his wings shook for his lost creation. 

"He was partially right," Starscream said, touching his wing, and sighed. "Just not right enough." 

Cloudbank nodded and got his wings back under control after a few more moments. " _You_ are Stratus's creator. He should be with you. You've taken care of him his whole life, and he loves you."

Starscream nodded. "He'll recognize you as flock. So, I expect, will my others."

"Thank you," Cloudbank said, giving him a warm smile. "I'm sure you're excited for him to be back in the nest. This ordeal can't have been easy."

"It hasn't been," Starscream admitted as he motioned the three to follow him. "It's almost time for him to spend a little time in the outside world. It's always the best part of the orn."

They made their way into medbay, where Stratus was sitting in his incubator playing with some stacking crystals. When he saw the four adults he was immediately on his pedes, jumping up and down and reaching his arms up, chirping frantically to be taken out and held. 

Starscream trilled to him as he opened the incubator and immediately had a handful of hatchling clinging to him. These joors outside the controlled environment were important to get a better idea of how his systems were adapting and healing, and while it always made him nervous, he was always overjoyed to have Stratus in his hands again. He lifted him up and nuzzled him, purring, and Stratus hugged his face.

"All the fussing about your creator and flock are over," Starscream cooed to him. "No one is going to challenge again. Cloudbank is your creation flock Order."

Stratus gave a delighted keen and began rapidly click-chirping his utter excitement, squirming in Starscream's hands from the sheer force of emotion. 

Cloudbank and his trine came forward and trilled to the little hatchling they'd come to know, each of them petting his unarmored head carefully in greeting. He looked at all of them with bright optics, chattering in hatchling 'cant.

"It's always nice to see him out," Optimus's deep rumble came with excited and happy greeting-chirps from the three hatchlings he carried. They only got more excited as he knelt to set them all down to play with their brother. "I take it from your wings that the ruling was favorable, overall?" he smiled up at Starscream.

"Yes," Starscream said with a relieved shiver. "They have to be back in Vos for at least one metacycle per vorn, with me or without, to be with their creator flocks, and also for the Rite and Celebration. Cloudbank's flock was awarded visitation, my flock was awarded limited visitation."

Optimus inclined his helm and turned his attention to Cloudback. "You will always be welcome here. I'm glad he and the others will know a flock his creator is friendly towards."

"Thank you," Cloudbank said, his wings expression gratitude that words and field could not. He smiled at his grand-creation. "So are we."


	19. Normalcy

With the custody of the hatchlings settled, the last of the treaty had been hammered out in less than a decaorn. It still had to be ratified by both governments, but neither side liked the idea of war and Optimus was more than willing to use that threat to get it through the Senate.

At the moment, however, he had his first full night off in far too long and actually had enough energy to pull his mate away from the hatchlings and into an actual berth.

"But what if Stratus needs something, or gets hungry..." the Vision said as he was being led out, gaze straying back towards the incubator where Prowl was keeping watch over all four.

"If you'd rather spend the joors with them, you may," Optimus said as he claimed a kiss.

"Um..." Starscream was having trouble concentrating suddenly. "It's just that when he... but..." He groaned a little too loudly when Optimus kissed his neck, attracting Prowl's impassive gaze. "How long did you say you had again?"

"Nine joors," Optimus rumbled. "Until it's time to prepare for my Senate appearance."

"That's an awful lot of time," Starscream said. 

"It is," Optimus agreed, fingers _just_ close enough to his wings to feel his field without touching. 

"I think that's more time than we've had total in the last two metacycles." 

"An exaggeration, perhaps, but not too far off the truth," Optimus said with a shrug. "I'm sure in a few more decaorns I will be able to get away from politics for a night, if you don't feel comfortable leaving Stratus alone--"

Starscream whirled around, pressing a finger to Optimus's mouth and silencing him. "No. No, that won't be necessary. Now is adequate."

Optimus chuckled with a deep rumble of arousal from his engine and all but pushed Starscream out of medbay and towards the Residence with an arm across his back. "Tonight we can make up for some of what we've missed."

"I hope you're fueled up," Starscream said with a smirk as he turned, walking backwards and looking up at the Prime. "I am going to ride you ragged. And then make you do the same for me."

The deep rev of the convoy's powerful engine was all the encouragement Starscream needed for the plan.

"We'll see if you can keep me pined the entire time," Optimus grinned with a playfully lusty curl of his field around the Seeker.

"I'd like to see you get free," Starscream said, and backed into the Residence doors, drawing Optimus into a deep, glossae-tangling kiss. He jumped up into Optimus's arms and wrapped his around the grounder's neck as the doors opened and they walked in, going straight to the Prime's quarters. The grand berth was before them when Optimus grabbed Starscream by the waist and all but threw him to the padding before lunging at him.

Starscream squawked and rolled onto his stomach, getting caught by one of Optimus's arms. He squirmed and twisted, getting his legs around the grounder's chest and throwing his weight, pushing him back and grabbing for his neck to pull him into a biting kiss. His vents gasped when he felt Optimus bite back, but it was nothing compared to feeling one of those hands close on his wing just past the main joint and push him down.

"Just so you know," he groaned as the mouth moved down to his neck, "I'm _letting_ you win. Because I like it."

"Good," Optimus growled against the cabling as his spike pressurized quickly between them. "You're hot when you like it."

"I'm hot when I _exist_ ," Starscream scoffed. " _Liking it_ has nothing to do with--" The predictable prattle was cut off by a deep groan as Optimus locked their mouths together, his glossa as demanding as the hand between Starscream's forcefully spread legs. 

" _Mmph--_ " Starscream arched into the kiss and slid his valve cover back and immediately felt fingers pressing into him. "Oh--" Optimus's glossa tangled forcefully with his again and Starscream rocked against the fingers with a deep, shameless moan. He'd always been a valve mecha, always enjoyed a bit of struggle, and to be indulged so shamelessly made him like his mate all the more.

"So slick and ready for me," Optimus rumbled in a brief break in their kiss as he pulled his fingers out, only to seal Starscream's mouth once more as he drove his hips forward to sink completely into the Seeker, stretching and filling him until their housings rubbed together.

The cry he wrenched from Starscream was sharp and joyful as the walls contracted in around his spike and squeezed, shivering and cycling in eager rhythms. Blue hips rocked back against his with every thrust and the Seeker took complete advantage of their finally being alone again and not a single cry was muffled. The field above him was a riot of pleasure and desire, affection and _want_ that was centered completely on Starscream.

It was exquisite.

Optimus's mouth left Starscream's and moved to his neck as he shifted to brace on his knees and helm so he could grab both of the Seeker's legs, spread them wide and pin them to him himself the deepest, tightest penetration possible.

That _stretch_ always made the needy Seeker keen for him, for more, and right now, he was possibly more desperate than usual. Spasms wracked his frame and wings and Optimus's spike was being squeezed at every depth. Heated walls gripped him and stroked him, as eager to charge him up as their owner was to have him inside. A deep, low groan escaped Optimus as he shuddered with the charge.

When the surge of charge tore through Optimus's frame, his roar was channeled directly into Starscream's frame with the first hot, crackling blast of transfluid erupted against the deepest recesses of the Seeker's valve. Pressure, heat and charge sensors all fired at once and Starscream's frame bowed up, locked with tension and frozen from the strength of the current that slammed through it. His helm hit the padding and he screamed, nothing to muffle the noise and no desire to try.

Each burst of transfluid summoned another cry from Starscream and deep, vibrating grunt from Optimus until they were both sinking down, trembling from the intensity of the release.

"Need to do that more often," Optimus eventually mumbled.

"I'll say," Starscream said. "What was that, five kliks? Ten at most?" He grinned, panting. "Need to build your endurance back up."

"Yours needs to be worked on too, given how loudly you were screaming," Optimus chuckled as he shifted to brace on his forearms again. A low, strong roll of his hips drew another sound of want from Starscream. "We have all night to work on it."

"Only because you _flooded_ me," Starscream protested as he pressed back with a long, low moan. "I challenge anyone not to-- _unh!_ \--scream with you jetting inside them like that."

"I think you may have challenged yourself," Optimus grinned down at his fiery lover. "See if you can hold off when I flood you next."

" _Hmm_." Starscream's grip tightened and he grinned back. "Won't be hard."

"We'll see," Optimus said before focusing his efforts on keeping his thrusting smooth as he leaned down to kiss, then suck on one wing.

The Seeker shivered with delight and sighed in bliss, optics flickering. " _Ohh_ right there," he purred. "Yes, like that, _just_ like that." He rocked and pressed, gripping his mate with every part of him. Resting charge dispelled, they moved slower to build it back up to the point of release. Starscream tried to funnel the excess away into his turbines, but before long, they were as burning hot as the rest of his frame.

He was just getting ready to contemplate how else to burn off some charge when Optimus nipped his wing just hard enough to leave a mark and drove his hips forward hard enough to jar Starscream's entire frame.

Starscream _saw_ static across his sensor net and his vocalizer burst with it. "That's _cheating!_ " he screeched once he could control it again.

"What's that?" Optimus cooed with another hard drive into the crackling frame under him and went after the other wing. "At this rate you'll overload first and jerk a second time when I finally do."

"You're _bigger_ , it isn't--isn't--" Starscream arched up and his claws came out, wing quivering. "I-- _demand_ \--a retrial when this is over!" The words came out fuzzy and laced with harmonics of ecstasy. The Prime's revving worked through his frame and then Optimus exploited the primary sensory array on his wing edge, scraping his denta over it. Everything whited out and Starscream had the sudden sensation of flying through iron hail and he let go, screaming again, joyfully and without regret. 

The Prime's own roar came just a few kliks later and it pulled another cry from Starscream. The Seeker pulled Optimus into a kiss and hooked his legs around his waist, rolling him onto his back. "You won that round," he said, pushing Optimus back with a single hand on his windshield. "Next one's mine."

Optimus happily relaxed and allowed his lover to dominate the moves that would bring them pleasure for the next joor.

* * *

"No," Starscream said, wings set defiantly. 

"But it would look so beautiful right here..." Chiindii held the crystal mobile up again. They were in the process of building a nest in the garden and his carrier had insisted on helping. Starscream had forbade his Action and Order creators, declaring it a Vision-only zone, but he hadn't expected Chiindii to _want_ to help. "Right by this opening where the light will come in in the morning..." 

"It's going on the west side," Starscream said, hands on his hips. "And that's that."

Chiindii sighed, his wings drooping as he complied with his strange, demanding creation. Starscream was so unlike any Vision he'd ever known, and yet he was also an undeniably devoted creator. He moved to fix the mobile over on the west side as he'd been directed, and ran his fingers through the glittering, chiming crystals. "You had one like this, do you remember?"

Starscream paused, then tried to shrug his wings like it didn't matter. "I remember."

Chiindii smiled, wings fluttering happily at the memories. "You loved it. Oh, I wish I could have been there for your separation. None of these grounders know anything about caring for a carrier. I hope you weren't scared. Oh, of course you weren't scared, you were never scared of anything."

"No, I wasn't scared about their separation," Starscream answered, feeling strangely mellow as he recalled his mate as their eggs came into the world. Pointing out to Chiindii that he had a few dozen previous separations' experience was pointless, and would only turn the conversation places he didn't want to go. Telling him the things he had learned to fear would just make it worse. "I was safe, and I wasn't alone." 

"Well that's--that's good," Chiindii said, wings fluttering as he rocked on his pedes, tapping his fingertips on his legs. "I--you know, I know we never really, understood each other, you and I, you were always so..." 

"Impertinent?" 

"That's ... a nice way of putting it," Chiindii said with a smile. "When you started broadcasting, I remember hoping ... well, anyway it doesn't matter what I was hoping. I'm just glad that maybe we'll have something in common now."

"You were hoping I'd become _like you_ ," Starscream spoke as his frame went tense with everything he hated about his carrier. "Don't count on it. We still have nothing in common."

"Well, yes, maybe I was," Chiindii sighed, and touched the mobile again, watching the lights dancing on the floor. "You were just so strange, can you blame me for wanting to understand you in some small way? But like I said, it doesn't matter. You've grown into an amazing flier, and even if I don't fully understand you, I love you." 

Starscream groaned. "Chiindii--"

"No, no, let me finish, dearest. I know you think I'm just a silly flutterbot, and maybe I am, but ... we do have one thing in common." Chiindii looked at his creation. "You love those creations with all your spark, anyone can see that. Same as me."

"You can't have them!" Starscream whirled on his carrier, his wings flared in a very real threat. "They are _my_ creations! Even the Winglord backed me!"

Chiindii held his hands up and lowered his wings in submission, and couldn't quite stop the laugh. When Starscream froze in confusion, Chiindii carefully put his hands on his creation's shoulders, smiling at him. "I would never, _ever_ dream of taking them from you, my darling. I mean that I love _you_ with all my spark. And all my creations."

Despite himself, Starscream felt his wings lower in chagrin for his reaction. He took in a deep vent of air and let it out. "Okay. We have one thing in common."

"Maybe we can find more than one," Chiindii said with a chuckle, and carefully rubbed Starscream's wing. "Or not, that's okay too. Do you think you'll have more?"

"No," Starscream shook his helm, but his wings expressed just how firm that refusal was. "I never wanted to create. That hasn't changed. It's not going to."

Chiindii nodded in acceptance. "The important thing is that you love and care for the ones you have, no matter how you got them. And I'm so proud of you for it."

There was a momentary hesitation, and Starscream sighed. "Thanks," he barely whispered, but it was perhaps the kindest thing he'd said to his creator-Vision in a long time. "Let's finish the nest. Stratus should be released today."

Chiindii trilled in agreement and picked up another decorative crystal chime and this time hung it without waiting for Starscream's direction. "Speaking of releasing," he said, voice carefully light and casual. 

"What speaking of releasing?" Starscream asked, wings tensing as he made himself busy. 

"I was just wondering..." Chiindii kept his voice and wings firmly neutral. "Are you going to release the chamber of the little one? As memorial, to the others."

Starscream heard the question, and then the rush of grief that came as the surge of memories, like a wave crashing over him. He trembled and sank down to hug himself tightly, his wing folded nearly flat to his back as memories crashed around him. Eggs taken. Eggs as he pierced their chambers. Passing that one crystal around to each of his trine as they grieved the loss of a clutch. The taste of a hatchling's wing-nub forced on him by a sire.

"Oh--darling, darling!" Chiindii was there immediately, hands on his wings, rubbing them in familiar patterns from his youth, when he'd first learned how to fly. "I'm so sorry," his carrier whispered. "I can't imagine--I just wanted to offer to go with you, if you want anyone. I want to be there for you, whatever you need. You don't have to be alone when you do it."

Starscream managed a nod, but it was all he could do in the grip of those vorns. "Hundred and twelve," he eventually gasped out.

"Hundred and..." Chiindii started, and then his grip tightened. "Oh, _Star,_ " he rasped, and arms were wrapped around him from behind as he felt his carrier's field wash with pain and grief for him, for the lost eggs. "Those poor sparks."

Another weak nod. "My trine lost so many more. I only lost 32 clutches. They lost over a hundred each. Bred to deactivation. That one egg, one chamber, was all they ever let us keep. The first one I killed."

Chiindii shuddered. He didn't say anything about the mention of Starscream's trine, and it didn't even show in his field. Everything was _grief_ and _empathy_. Not even shock that Starscream had killed eggs. "I'm so sorry, my Star," he whispered.

"No real Seeker could kill an egg," Starscream curled even more tightly on himself. "You know what they'd do to me if anyone found out."

Chiindii was still for a long klik, petting him. "Why did you?"

"Better to die wrapped in love than boiled alive for some monster's enjoyment," Starscream's field went hard with the pain-hate he's always held in check when committing the murders. "I made it fast. Made sure they knew they were loved. They felt the pain, but never for long."

Chiindii cringed, but didn't let go. "At--at least they knew love too," he managed.

"It was the best I could do for them," Starscream's voice was listless as his frame stopped trembling and field smoothed into grieving numbness. "It wasn't many. The monsters worked out how to stop me too soon. And then I--I lost my strength."

It surprised him when he felt the claws against his plating. In all his life, he couldn't remember seeing Chiindii's claws come out. "You did your best," his carrier said firmly. "You survived, and now you have four beautiful hatchlings."

"I can't _not_ survive," Starscream responded numbly. "Even when I'd rather not. I can't give up. But what that drove me to do...." he shuddered. "A grounder for a mate. No trine. Half-breed creations. An outcast. All because some stupid bit of code insisted I was a Vision," he hissed with old, bitter anger. "None of this would have happened if it said I'm the Order I _am_."

"I ... I know," Chiindii said. "I--I don't understand but I think, yes, you should have been an Order." He paused. "Come flying with me?"

Starscream looked over his shoulder as dim optics brightened slightly. Slowly he nodded and convinced his wings to unfold enough. "All right."

Chiindii hugged him tightly and drew him away into the sky.

* * *

Flown until his tanks were nearly empty, nest finished and inspected and approved by the Winglord's own Action, Starscream had only one more thing to do. 

Collect his hatchlings and curl up with his mate under the stars. 

He refueled and made his way to medbay, palmed the door open, walked in, and then stopped, and stared. Prime, he'd expected. The two medics as well. Cloudbank's trine somewhat so. His own creator-trine, not really. The Winglord's trine, not at all.

"Well get in here, Screacher," Ratchet grumbled at him. "You're _finally_ going to lose your excuse to hang out here all orn."

"Not a moment too soon," Starscream sniffed, flicking his wings as he strode in. He gave the Winglord an accusing look for his presence. 

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge at him. "That hatchling might very well be responsible for one of the great diplomatic feats of our time," he said. "Of course I'm here." 

"And we're here to support you," Ripwing said.

Starscream was about to retort when a large hand stroked his back and distracted him in the critical moment.

"Let's finally get the hatchlings home," Optimus suggested. "We are all ready to see far less of Ratchet's domain."

Starscream huffed, then flipped his hand back as he walked up to the incubator, where Stratus was chirping and jumping up and down. "As I said, not a moment too soon," he told the medic before leaning in to trill to his creation. 

"I've gone ahead and made an vornly visit with me part of your requirements when visiting Vos," Espera told him. "I want to keep a close watch on his growth."

"Agreed," Starscream didn't fuss about it in the least as he opened the lid and reached in for his weakest creation. Just touching him brought about a visceral change in the aggressive, volatile Seeker. Wings settled, tension eased, his field smoothed out with a joy and he cooed at Stratus about going back to the nest and how strong and brave he was.

Stratus latched onto him and trilled joyfully while his siblings chirped from Optimus's frame, Fyat being especially loud from the top of his helm. 

Then Stratus nuzzled his creator and looked up at him. "Home?" he asked hopefully.

"Home," Starscream promised as he held him close and turned around. "We're all going home to a proper nest tonight."

"Okay," Stratus said, cuddling in closer to Starscream's plating, optics flickering with happiness. "No more bubble?"

Starscream glanced at Espera, and allowed himself to show his relief when the medic flicked his wings in confirmation.

"No, no more bubble. You're strong enough and ready to live outside again," Starscream promised. "You've done so well. The bubble is in the past."

Stratus purred and everyone cheered and clapped as they walked through the medbay doors with Starscream cooing and doting on him. Optimus and the hatchlings followed behind them, and the Prime slipped a warm hand onto Starscream's back and leaned in. 

"I'm very proud of you," he murmured. "Both of you."

"You should be," Starscream trilled with a grin at his big mate. "Just follow carefully. The nest is completely different now that it's with open sky as it should be."

Optimus nodded and they made their way out to the garden and the ornate nest that stood glinting in the sunlight. Instead of scrap and broken furniture, it was constructed of sharp, jagged metal, protecting the inner nest on all sides. It was larger than the first nest, which had barely given Optimus space to stretch out. He could see immediately that he would fit completely inside this one, with comfort and room to spare. 

"Wow," Fyat whispered from the top of his helm. "Why so different?"

"This is what a nest _should_ be," Starscream said. "I didn't feel safe enough to take the time for one before, because _you_ ," he tapped Stratus's nose, "Were already an egg. And the grounders didn't know I needed one. I made what I could with what I had. _This_ nest is stronger. No weaknesses like the last one, open to the sky."

"This one pretty," Fyat proclaimed, her gaze suddenly locking onto the glitter of the crystal display hanging near the entrance to the inner nest. "So many shinies!"

"I'll show you closer when we're inside," Optimus said as he carefully followed Starscream's steps through the trap hazard of the outer nest.

"Just shinies?" she cocked her helm, staring at it. "So many colors."

Starscream chuckled. "It was one of my favorites as a hatchling. You can learn shapes, colors, crystals and their properties. Then it's just fun to play with."

She squirmed in excitement and jumped for the hanging decoration that would double as a toy as soon as they were in the inner nest. She caught it just with the tips of her claws and hung onto it, swinging, as Optimus's startled noise made Starscream turn back. 

" _Fyat!_ " he screeched when he saw her hanging. 

"I caught it!" she protested as she climbed up the side of the contraption, reaching around to spin one of the crystals before Optimus's hand closed around her and lifted her away. 

"Fyat's silly," Farsight giggled happily. 

"You could fall and hurt yourself!" Starscream scolded when Optimus held her out with a frown. 

"No," she said simply, shaking her head. "Fyat jumped. Fyat knew."

"She has a point. She's yet to misjudge her abilities," Optimus said as he set all three hatchlings down.

Starscream huffed as he watched her tackle Pathfinder to the ground. "Yes, and she'll be able to say that until she does." Stratus began to squirm in his hands, wanting to play with his siblings. "Hold on, hold on--" He knelt down and whistled sharply, getting all their attention. "Now, play _carefully_ \--" 

"Don't _need_ careful!" Stratus protested. "Healthy!" 

"--no roughhousing with him--"

"Healthy!" Stratus insisted again. 

"--and watch that you don't climb too high," Starscream finished.

"You know, when she falls, she'll get up with a new appreciation for falling," Optimus pointed out. "Better for her to learn that it hurts _now_ , than after she can fly."

Starscream flicked his wings and let Stratus go, and cringed a little when the smallest hatchling was immediately in a pile with the other three, rolling and tumbling with them. He looked at Optimus with narrowed optics. " _You_..." he began, standing and turning. 

Optimus looked back innocently. 

"...make entirely too much sense sometimes," Starscream finished.

"Thank you," the Prime inclined his helm graciously. "Now that they are all healthy, do you believe you'll be able to tear yourself away for a few orns of political sparring? I could use your sharp processors and optics when I present the treaty to the Senate."

"Mm, so I _am_ good for something other than needing to be rescued," Starscream said with a smirk as he looped his arms up around Optimus's neck. "I suppose I can spare the time to help you."

"Good," Optimus leaned down for an eager kiss and wrapped his arms around the Seeker. "The new nest is beautiful. Perhaps we can break the padding in while the hatchlings play?"

Starscream glanced back at them. "Well--" 

"We'll be good!" Fyat promised quickly. 

"You just don't want me yelling at you to be careful every klik," Starscream said. "Don't think I don't know." 

She looked back innocently. 

Starscream scowled as he looked back at Optimus. "She learned that look from _you_ , you know," he accused, but pulled the Prime down into a kiss.

"Mmm, somehow I suspect you mastered that look very young as well, and used it until no one was fooled," Optimus chuckled as he guided his mate to the softness underneath them and stroked his wings.

"Lies, filthy lies all of it," Starscream purred happily.

* * *

Starscream's wings twitched in a mixture of eagerness, anticipation and irritation. On one wing, he'd been invited to advise the ruler of Cybertron as he went before the Senate to push through a treaty with Vos. On the other wing, he was expected to remain hidden with the black and silver SpecOps demons who were also advising. The Praxian was advising as well, though that was at range and from his office where four hatchlings, and likely a couple adult Seekers, were all going to distract him.

::Oh, _look_ at them!:: he said as the Senators began to file in. They were all draped in jewels and precious metals, while simultaneously managing to look like they were about to fall apart. ::Ugly pompous old glitches. Grounders, I swear.::

::It's not a grounder thing. It's a pompous glitch thing,:: Jazz chimed in. ::You'll never see an Op look like that unless it's a cover.::

::You will rarely see anyone look like that outside the ruling class,:: Prowl added.

::And now you know why _I'm_ expected to look like _this_ ,:: Optimus tried, and failed, not to grumble about the ceremonial decorations he was done up in.

::But you look _pretty_ in all the shiny glitter. They don't,:: Starscream cooed.

::Please do not flirt on this line,:: Prowl said, though they all knew he was just as resigned to it as he was to Jazz calling him Prowler.

::What a killjoy, huh?:: Jazz asked with a grin, elbowing Whiplash. 

::Maybe if they had wings...:: Starscream mused, tilting his head almost completely sideways as he peered at the Senators. ::Oh, that one's almost good looking,:: he added when the youngest Senator from Polyhex came in. ::Please tell me he isn't crazy.::

::He isn't,:: Optimus chuckled. ::He was elected after I became Prime, he's one of the most liberal.::

::So how long before you two manage to put the rest of the old rust buckets down?:: Starscream asked the Ops agents with a mixture of serious and teasing.

::Far too long,:: Jazz smirked at him.

::I _really_ do not need to hear about assassination plots,:: Prowl said with evident discomfort.

::Shh, darling, you wouldn't know if you were hearing about an assassination plot,:: Jazz cooed. 

There was a sputter from Prowl's side of the line, then a sigh. :: _Prowl_ , Jazz. My designation is Prowl. Not Prowler, not Prowlie, not darling, not sparkles, not pretty, and most definitely not yet yours."

::All right, not in public,:: Jazz said with a grin. 

::Are you two 'facing?:: Starscream asked bluntly.

::Negative,:: Prowl responded calmly. ::He has not achieved his goal yet.::

Starscream looked at Jazz, who shrugged back at him, then shrugged his wings. ::Whatever,:: he said. ::Not like I want to think about grounders interfacing anyway. What a turn-off.::

::You like one grounder's spike well enough,:: Jazz teased him before they all quieted as the Senate session began while Optimus shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to hide his smile. 

"The Honored Lord Prime stands to speak to us of the Seekers who invaded last metacycle," a gravely voice spoke, silencing all. The Prime might be young, difficult to control and with some strange ideas, but he was still the Prime, and as one truly bound to the Matrix of Leadership, he had the full backing of the priesthood. He was not a mecha to be rude to without good cause.

"Senators, welcome," Optimus said as he stood, bowing his head in gratitude to the priest's introduction. "Before each of you is a proposed treaty that I constructed with the Winglord. As you know, he accompanied a medic here to care for one of the survivors of the egg breeding facilities that was shut down this last vorn. He is interested in peace, and I believe this may the first step towards a mutual and beneficial relationship between our long-divided peoples." 

"We have peace," someone muttered, though not loud enough to technically be a recorded comment.

"My Lord Prime, this is far more than a peace treaty, yet it leaves unsettled questions," a Senator from Crystal City said after he was recognized. "Who will defend the moon should an assault come?"

::What kind of question is _that?_ :: Starscream scoffed. ::Like we need help from grounders.::

"Senator, respectfully, I do not grasp the full intent of your question," Optimus said carefully. "This treaty does not in any way obligate, compel, or bind us to the moon's defense. The Seekers would defend themselves, as they always have. They do have an active military. The language used in the treaty only permits them to request assistance, not demand it." 

"My Lord Prime, what about our merchants?" A Senator from Simfur asked. "There should be tariffs to protect them from imported goods."

::Any tariffs we add will also be used against our merchants trying to expand into the Vosian market,:: Prowl commented. ::Vos is not industrial. Cybertron is. We are far more likely to sell mass-made goods there than they are here.::

As Optimus repeated a variant of that answer back, Starscream looked around the room at all the faces. Some were interested, but most were neutral. A not-insignificant portion looked openly hostile. 

"Why now? Why do we need this at all?" the Crystal City Senator asked when Optimus finished speaking. "We're not at war, we're not at risk of war. What is the point of this legislation?"

"In that assumption, you are incorrect," Optimus stated clearly, causing a ripple of shock through the gathering. "We have been one incident from an all-out war with the fliers, not just Vos, for generations. So first and foremost, this treaty and its provisions for the treatment of convicted egg thieves, is to keep us from a war we are unlikely to win," Optimus rumbled. "They have more than enough cause to pull in support from many outside systems if they need it. Few races consider the consuming of young to be acceptable behavior."

He paused, waiting for anyone to argue the point with him, daring the old Senators with his gaze to claim that the eggs were not _living_ and couldn't feel _pain_. 

::No one is stupid enough to risk that,:: Starscream said. 

::I will never stop trying to flush them out,:: Optimus rumbled back. 

But silence answered him. 

"Only the paranoia of those involved in the illegal trade saved us from war," he continued. "Lives were lost, Seekers' _lives_ , to keep the peace. It stops now."

"Yes, it does." One of the older Polyhexian Senators stood to speak. "And it has. I count myself among the relieved that such atrocities are no longer being committed. But the law has changed. It's in the past. Why do more? Why open our people up to needless tension and risk?" 

"Every advancement comes with some risk and discomfort," Optimus told them with careful harmonics reminding those gathered that he knew the price of _change_ better than most. "Our people, every city, will benefit from increased trade and the different perspective another culture provides. There is good reason far beyond a mere gathering of resources that the Institute of Sciences in Iacon produces more advancements per mecha than any other. It is because every city, every frametype, even legal aliens, are included as an equal voice to give each other ideas and perspectives. Such a gathering was, at one time, the very foundation of the Senate."

"That may be what the law says," the same Senator answered. "But we all know that just because a law states one thing, it doesn't mean the people won't believe another. There is much tension between our peoples, your Grace. And please notice that I say _our_ peoples. I mean the Seekers as well. They are at risk here from bias, discrimination, misunderstanding, even violence. I would not want them to believe they were safe." 

Starscream snorted. ::That's a pitiful smokescreen argument if I ever heard one,:: he said.

::There will be worse,:: Optimus said grimly. "They will be as safe as the law can make it. Only exposure and understanding will lessen bias on both sides. Until our people learn better ways than they were taught, it will be difficult. That difficulty and working through it will make Cybertron stronger."

"I would like to voice my utmost approval for this treaty and its terms," the young Senator from Polyhex said, standing and bending at the waist to show respect to the Prime. "This will promote economic growth, scientific advances, new understandings of the world. It will be a challenge, but I think it will make us stronger in the end." 

"Those are the words of the young and inexperienced," one of the oldest rumbled. "You're too young to understand. The fliers are too volatile for the peace you're dreaming of, Prime. Everyone knows this."

"Not everyone has shut down their processors to such an extent," Optimus all but dismissed the ancient. "This frame may be young, but the Matrix is not. Neither are the archives that badly damaged. Even by our own accounts nearly every violent incident was the fault of grounders, _our_ fault. History would indicate that we are the ones who have such difficulty with peace and civility, yet they would give us another chance after all we have done to them. Peace is worth the risk. Prosperity is worth the effort. I will not allow the poor choices of my predecessors to destroy the future of our kind."

"Those _choices_ kept us safe from their unnatural ways," the old Senator rumbled. "The Primes before you were wise and we have prospered because of it. There is a reason Primus saw fit to expel the fliers from the surface of his world, and you would invite them back. They forsook his way! This treaty is _blasphemy!_ " 

Several dozen Senators were on their pedes and yelling before the last glyph echoed, and in the din, their words were impossible to make out. Starscream's wings shook with rage.

Prime stood calmly and allowed them to rant and rave, the environment doing nothing to unsettle him.

::We chose well,:: Whiplash smiled to himself, his comm heard only by his SIC as he moved to keep Starscream from joining the shouting.

::No kidding. Nova would have executed the lot. Sentinel would have been screaming right back,:: Jazz agreed. ::Though executing the lot doesn't sound so bad right now.::

::Always looking to make trouble, aren't you,:: Whiplash said once he had a hand on the furious Seeker. 

"They're _animals!_ " came a shout from the room. 

"--gift of Unicron--"

"--unreasonable, bigoted, and hateful--" 

"--Prime's been _seduced_ \--" 

"-- _peace_ in millennia!" 

It took the shouting almost five full kliks to settle once those engaged noticed the Prime standing. Silence finally fell with respect to his right to speak.

"Do not speak so harshly of yourselves," Optimus spoke calmly, his harmonics of a concerned creator towards an upset youngling. "There is no need to insult or degrade. Those are the actions of one who has no argument."

Murmurs of confusion answered him. Starscream's mouth turned up in a private smile and he decided he liked his mate all the more.

"We are talking about _Seekers_ , not of ourselves," one Senator rasped.

"You spoke what your processors and your sparks feel about yourselves and your society, directed at a safer target," Optimus replied with that same gentle, chastising harmonic. "That is how irrational hate works."

Dead silence. 

And then the young Senator from Polyhex stood and began to clap for his Prime, a slow, deliberate rhythm. After a moment, others began to stand and join in with him, while some remained firmly seated in protest. Starscream made careful note of which faces were which, and he was sure the minibots were doing the same.

When the applause died down, Optimus smiled at those who had applauded, but did not further chastise those who hadn't. "Are there any rational, logic and fact based issues to discuss about the proposed treaty?"

"Actually, I'd like to discuss the trade tariffs in more depth," one of those who had stood to clap said, lifting his hand. "I think there is room for improvement in a way that could benefit both economies."

Optimus inclined his helm. "Then please give your ideas," he shifted his harmonics to open encouragement.

* * *

It was late, _very_ late, when the Senate finally quit for the night. More than half had left when the talks of details and how to honestly improve the treaty got into full swing. It was a subtle snub to the Prime and the talks, but not one that would be punished yet.

::Ya think he'll let us get rid of any of'm?:: Jazz asked his boss privately.

::No, but he'll give us an unlimited credit stick to make sure they don't get re-elected,:: Whiplash grinned at his subordinate, who grinned back. They both smoothed their expressions when Optimus entered the observation nook, looking as tired as he no doubt felt after the grueling orn.

"Ohh, my poor baby," Starscream cooed as he went to him, fussing and petting. "You sure showed those bigots who's in charge."

"I attempted to. I got through to more than I expected," Optimus admitted as he drew Starscream close and kissed him. "You did well, not charging in when they were insulting you."

"You can thank me for that," Whiplash snickered, cutting Starscream's preening short. 

Starscream glared at him for a moment before he went back to his doting on his mate, kissing and petting. "I think you'll get a majority when it comes down to a vote," he said. "Especially if you keep emphasizing Vos as a good opportunity for businesses to increase their markets." 

"Always comes back ta makin' them or their friends richer," Jazz said. "Neva' gonna change, but at least it works." 

"Are there _really_ mecha out there who think flight is a gift from _Unicron?_ " Starscream asked. 

"Likely because they curse anything they do not possess," Optimus said as he nudged Starscream to move. "Let's have the hatchlings brought to the washrack. I want to look like myself before we return to the nest."

"Let's have the hatchlings brought to the nest when we're done with the washracks," Starscream purred. "I wouldn't mind seeing you bent over for me right now." 

Optimus chuckled as his engine rumbled. "I like that idea," he said as he nudged his mate onward. 


	20. Turns for the Better

With the treaty all but settled and Thundercracker taking a couple orns to re-read all the changes made while Optimus pushed it through the Senate, Starscream was enjoying being snuggled in his mate's arms later in the morning than he'd had for some time. It had been a brutal decaorn and a half of negotiations, which Starscream and often Thundercracker had watched and commented on to Optimus via comms. It had left both Seekers viewing the young Prime more highly, and left the Senate with the ever-more firmly set understanding that if they wanted any concessions from this Prime, they'd have to give some as well.

Yes, Optimus was young and idealistic, but he was better educated than most Senators and had a gift for speeches that few could come close to.

Of course, Starscream had his own reasons for loving the speeches that had absolutely nothing to do with their content. Turning off his optics and letting the deep, rich harmonics roll over him, using his wings to listen to every note and pitch... 

His engines warmed and he purred, snuggling back against his mate, only half-online as he imagined Optimus above him and inside him and murmuring to him--

A tiny finger poked his helm.

Then his nose.

Then a voice that already had some traits in common with his creator-sire trilled at him and Starscream powered up one optic to look at Pathfinder.

"What do you need?" he asked, trying to smooth the harmonics in his voice out so that it wouldn't be the sharp snap that it wanted to be right at that particular moment. He wasn't sure how successful he was, but no one had flinched, so that was a good sign.

"Can we fly after Stratus has his turn?" Pathfinder pointed to his smallest sibling, who was currently being poked and examined by Farsight and Fyat.

Starscream groaned and forced the other optic online as he felt his mate stir behind him. "What are you..." he began as he focused on Stratus, and then realized what the hatchlings were looking at. "Oh!" He scrambled up, accidentally elbowing Optimus in the face and clipping his helm with a wing, and hurried to Stratus to scoop the happily chirping hatchling up. There, clear as day, was a thin layer of armor developing over his shoulders and helm, a bright green color. "Look, look!" he called to his mate, who was rubbing his faceplates as he struggled to finish booting.

Hazy blue optics cleared and focused on Starscream, then re-focused on the hatchling he was holding with such excitement.

"Is he green?" Optimus asked as he pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Yes," Starscream said proudly, nuzzling Stratus, who chirred happily at all the attention.

"So ... he can go flying with you now?" Optimus asked as he sat up and smiled at the warm scene. "Espera said armor was a very good stage to get to?"

"Mhmm." Starscream wings twitched happily. "Do you want to go up flying?" he cooed to Stratus.

"Yes!" the smallest sparkling of the clutch cried and tried to jump up and down in Starscream's hands.

"Then _we_ go flying!" Fyat insisted while Optimus chuckled.

Starscream hummed in agreement, gazing almost dreamily at Stratus, who wriggled in excitement. 

Farsight tugged on Starscream's leg. "Why is he green?" he asked.

Starscream was momentarily distracted enough to look down at the three creations he'd carried and Optimus had helped construct. All in rich red, blue and white, all with a lot of red. "Because one of his creators had this color."

"But you're not green," Farsight said, frowning in confusion. 

"Sire isn't green," Fyat added, climbing up onto Optimus's helm and perching there. "Who's green?"

"His designation was Cirrus, and he deactivated before any of you were eggs," Starscream explained, his wings drooping in a reflexive display of the loss of a trinemate. "I'm very glad one of you took to his colors."

Fyat was frowning, but the other three looked content with the answer given. 

"Sad," Stratus chirped.

"Yes, but he made you who you are, and he loved you very much. You took after him," Starscream nuzzled the smallest hatchling. "Let's go flying now. Everyone else can watch from here."

"No," Fyat said, shaking her head. "Outside." 

"Or outside, wherever you want," Starscream said, and offered his mate a smile. "Sorry lover, lazy morning will have to wait."

"Flying hatchlings is always a good reason to delay," Optimus chuckled and looked up at Fyat as Starscream made his way outside the nest and into the garden. "Where do you want to play?"

"Don't want to play," she informed him, trying to get him to follow Starscream by pushing on his helm. "Want to watch!"

Optimus chuckled, knelt to collect Pathfinder and Farsight, and obligingly followed Starscream out of the nest. While the Seeker lifted off, he headed inside to take them to the Residence's roof and the best view of the air show their creator was going to put on.

* * *

Thundercracker touched down on Cybertron nearly one vorn to the orn after the first time he'd come here answering a distress call for a young hatchling's life. He looked around the newly-constructed landing strip as his trine transformed and joined him. More had changed in a vorn than he would have imagined possible.

He was here for the official signing of the peace treaty that was metacycles in the making. The grounders' Senate and his own council had debated back and forth on it until it was perfect for both, and now it was finally time for ceremony and celebration. 

"Apologies, Honored Winglord," said the servant who was waiting for them. "The Prime was not expecting you until morning, but he extends his welcome and requests that you forgive his absence. I can show you to your quarters, or he has offered for you to join him and his family for energon and delicacies, if you would like."

Thundercracker didn't need to look to know what his trine wanted, particularly his Vision. "We will join them."

"Very good, Honored Winglord," the grounder said, inclining his helm. "Please follow me." 

He led them into the Residence, a place they were all very familiar with, but instead of going to the Prime's chambers or the garden, he went up to the roof. As they stepped out, they saw Optimus standing near a table with four empty chairs, a five-tiered platter of treats and a pitcher of energon. 

Thundercracker looked around and saw the last of a group of servants quickly disappearing down another set of stairs. He chuckled. "A nearly flawless recovery." 

Optimus's optics warmed with a smile. "My apologies for not greeting you in person," he said, and gestured at the sky. "I've been, ah, _pointedly_ informed that it's bad manners to leave midway through watching a flight."

"Ah, yes," Thundercracker didn't hide his chuckle. "Even mild Visions can be _very_ assertive when they believe they are not being suitably attended to."

"Are all the hatchlings with Starscream?" Farcry asked eagerly.

"Pathfinder is with him right now. Stratus and Farsight are in the nest and Fyat is with Prowl," Optimus said as they all sat down. Skywarp didn't hesitate in snagging several confections and serving his trine.

Thundercracker accepted with a warm smile for his Action and mate and poured out all four cubes of energon. "I'm sorry about the unexpected arrival, we wanted a bit more time to get settled before all the ceremonies tomorrow." He watched the Vision flying far overhead in an intricate dance set against the rich sunset. After a few kliks, he glanced at his own Vision, who gave him a knowing look, and then looked at the Prime. 

The grounder was watching attentively, enjoying the flight, but very clearly missing its full meaning. Thundercracker took a sip of energon. "Does he do this often?"

"Mm? Fly? He flies every orn," Optimus said.

"I mean _this_ ," Thundercracker said, gesturing up. "This kind of flying, in patterns." 

"Hmm." Optimus thought about it for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it is often similar." He smiled. "I like watching, it's very beautiful." 

Thundercracker looked at him. "He's _dancing_ for you." 

"Dancing?" Optimus asked, something in Thundercracker's tone catching him as he looked away for the first time. 

The serious blue Seeker regarded the grounder. "He's asking for your spark, and offering his. Dancing."

Optimus's spark sang and his optics snapped to the dancing Seeker. "How do I answer him? Say yes, as a grounder."

Thundercracker frowned. "There is no saying _yes_ as a grounder," he said. "You can't fly. There is no answer that doesn't need wings." 

"If you had wings, you would join him," Farcry said wistfully, and slipped his hand into Thundercracker's. "Each dance is unique, and by joining in, you show that you cared enough to learn the movements." 

"But you need wings," Skywarp said. 

"If he cares enough to create the dance, I will find a way to join him," Optimus said thoughtfully as he watched the flying with new intent. "It will be unique," he agreed and sipped his energon, his optics never leaving his mate.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Thundercracker said. 

* * *

Starscream was reveling in the wind over his wings and the ecstatic field and cries of the hatchling in his cockpit when a ping on his comm dragged some of his attention inward. ::This better be good.::

::I hope it is,:: Optimus's rich voice was unaffected by his mate's grumpy tone. ::I'm on the plain outside Iacon, to the south. Join me?.::

Starscream banked and headed that way, now more curious than irritated by the interruption. He easily spotted the splash of red and blue on the ground, just past the city. ::What are you doing all the way out there?::

::Driving,:: Optimus replied as he began to turn, then changed direction to form an S that looped around into three expanding circles.

Starscream scoffed. ::I can see that. Whatever _for?_ ::

::For you to watch,:: Optimus spelled it out as he maneuvered his slow, heavy frame about the plain in a pattern that stretched his agility.

::Fine, see me here, watching,:: Starscream said, coasting on a current, bewildered by his mate's actions. Optimus moved into the looping S shape again and Starscream turned to mirror it out of habit, and then when he followed again, _realized._

This was his dance. It had been translated to two dimensions, of course, but when he flattened it in his mind, it synced up perfectly. 

Thrusters fired to life and roared as he surged ahead and joined in. 

Under him, Optimus revved his already strained engine and continued the dance, the joy in his field palpable when Starscream got close enough to brush. Inside his cockpit, Fyat was surprisingly quiet, but her optics were wide as she watched her sire-creator in alt mode for the first time. Starscream was glad for it, because all his attention was devoted to matching the dance to his ground-bound mate. Optimus's interpretation of it was as flawless as it could be for what he had to work with, but it still required some creative decision-making.

The rumble of another Seeker's engines heralded the arrival of a large fighter-bomber. A moment later Starscream realized he was untrined Action, and military. The intruder flew between them, disrupting the dance.

::Starscream, what's he doing?:: Optimus asked.

::Mm, he's trying to prove himself a superior flier,:: Starscream hummed. ::Which, technically, he is. Rather rude to interrupt a courting dance of all things, but he's asking to court for mate and trine. Probably also trying to stop me courting a grounder.:: He peeled back, circling up high to watch. 

::Do you want to trine?:: Optimus asked as the rich auburn and gold newcomer began to twist and spin in a dance that was genuinely impressive for his frame size.

::Never,:: Starscream answered with a hiss.

::How should he be chased off?::

:: _Officially_ it's your duty,:: Starscream said bitterly. ::I can choose not to accept his dance, but we'll have to wait until he leaves on his own if we do it that way.::

There was a lingering pause as Optimus thought about that. ::Would pulling him out of the sky suffice?::

Starscream smirked. :: _Oh_ yes,:: he purred. ::Shall I bring him to you?::

::Yes.:: Optimus pinged him a set of 3D coordinates just past a rise and rolled towards it.

Starscream fired his thrusters and dove, syncing up with the Action's dance and bringing the altitude down. He moved into a tight spin as he rocketed above his mate, bringing the Action behind. He watched as best he could as his mate drove up the natural ramp and launched from it, transforming mid-air to capture the interloper's wings to each side of the fuselage.

Starscream peeled up into a high loop to better watch the Action trying to twist out of the hold, but the Prime's grip was tight and all the Action accomplished was an outraged shriek as they hit the ground. Thrusters still hot, the Action continued to struggle forward, but Optimus had him on his back and soon had wings pinned under the massive weight of a large convoy class frame.

"Yield," Optimus demanded, one fist raised in an open threat to punch through armor and internals.

Engines powered down and the Seeker transformed, glaring up at the grounder. "Yield," he said.

Optimus accepted it and stood, freeing the Seeker's wings. "Starscream does not want you. Leave us to our dance."

"You're sullying him," the Action said as Starscream landed next to his mate and looked down at him. "It's disgusting, the way you rub his wings in the dirt." 

"I would rather have my wings in the dirt under this grounder than above you in the sky," Starscream said coldly. "I will take no trine, I want no other mate."

There was a momentary pause as the Action stared at Starscream's cockpit and the two-vorn-old inside, who was staring back at him.

"You won't have a choice, eventually," the Action growled at Starscream. "No Seeker survives without trine."

" _I_ will," Starscream said, and stepped in front of his mate, canting his wings to him in a blatantly erotic pose. "Now get lost before I decide to show you why I picked him."

Optimus's engine rumbled as he reached out to stroke the temping wings before him, his fingers working to make Starscream tremble and moan.

"You'll regret refusing me," the Action rumbled before powering up his thrusters and taking off.

"No," Starscream breathed and tipped his helm back for a molten kiss, fields flaring together. "I won't." His spark raced and his thrusters rumbled as they began to burn again. "Get back on your wheels," he purred against Optimus's mouth. "You have a dance to finish."

"Yes," Optimus rumbled eagerly and stepped away before transforming to drive to the point where they'd been interrupted.

Starscream launched into the air and spun into a spectacular display to show his choice once and for all.

**Author's Note:**

> From <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/3587.html?thread=5215491#t5215491>
> 
> Ok, so I found this rather humorous little comic ([A Modest Proposal by flutterjet](http://flutterjet.deviantart.com/art/TF-A-Modest-Proposal-460299746)) and while I did giggle at first read, I then paused to think about it and was kind of horrified. And then full of ideas.
> 
> So, however anon will want to work with timeline, is all good. But we'll begin with backstory: So way back before the war the nobility of Cybertron would spend obscene amounts of money, favors, blackmail and bribes in the attempt to acquire a certain delicacy. As you can guess from the comic, that delicacy was Seeker eggs. It was very hard to get, in part because it was highly illegal. But as history has shown throughout the world, the aristocracy has a tendency to make their own rules.
> 
> Now, obviously the Seekers aren't just giving their eggs away--these are their offspring after all! Blackmarketeers steal the eggs; or if they are extremely sneaky and strong, they will kidnap Seekers and keep them as slaves to be bred and produce eggs.
> 
> However, being warrior builds, it's not easy to catch one. And even if you catch one, it's harder to keep one. Especially since they can't be completely immobilized while laying or the egg(s) won't come out. They are dangerous while carrying in general, willing to kill anyone who might be a threat to them or their egg(s); captive with the knowledge of what will happen to their eggs makes them desperate. Never a good combo. This makes it not only illegal but difficult and dangerous to harvest the eggs. Which is why a noble's status and reputation skyrocket if they host a private party and serve their guests Seeker eggs.
> 
> Somehow Starscream has found himself in the unhappy position as a slave to a band of blackmarket egg sellers (I wouldn't be surprised if Swindle had a hand in it. He'd probably start the practice up again after the war if he could). He's raped repeatedly until the slavers can be certain his body is building an egg. If/When he lays his egg they subdue him in someway and take the egg for selling. And the whole process immediately starts up again.
> 
> Now, being highly illegal, obviously we have some Good Guys who are working to take down this ring of egg-sellers. The cavalry come and bust up this particular band, but as Starscream is currently carrying at least one egg they can't simply say "you're free now, go on your merry way". He needs to build himself a nest, someplace he feels safe, and someone has to take care of him up until the egg hatches, because no way in the Pit is he letting his egg out of his sight to be eaten! And that's all on top of the mental trauma.
> 
> Optimus Prime steps up to provide that safe haven. He even wants to be caretaker to Starscream and his egg. He proves protective and attentive. He'd probably make a really good mate. You know. For a grounder. *shifty eyes* ...And he gives really good wing-massages.
> 
> So... kinks:  
> \--slavery (perhaps with some bondage)  
> \--rape  
> \--mental trauma & horror (dude, they are eating. BABIES.)  
> \--animalistic nesting behavior  
> \--egg laying  
> \--hurt/comfort  
> \--large protector (I think that's what I like best about Optimus)


End file.
